Fairytale Ending: Sequel to Second Thoughts
by Kristanci
Summary: Six months after the events of Second Thoughts, the four musketeers face another challenge that involve Jacque's secret identity. Feelings are developed and old friends appear.
1. Laponte's Letter

Laponte's Letter

It had been a few months since the day Louis' life was saved from peril. Jacque's wound was healing nicely. She could now fight to her full extent, even use her left arm as well as her right. One of the exercises that Captain Duval gave her to build up the neglected muscles in her arm was a light drill of merely swinging a rapier in circular motions. Soon after that, she was able to thrust and lunge without feeling the strain in her arm. No longer was she frustrated when her fingers could not hold onto the hilt of her rapier.

D'Artagnan was still as arrogant as ever, but their eyes would meet for fleeting moments then they would turn away. Their relationship had changed that night, three months ago. Even Ramon and Siroc noticed slight differences with their friends, but they figured that it was just a comrade's bond that was becoming stronger.

"If I didn't know any better, I would have thought they were best friends since birth," Ramon said, biting into some bread. He and Siroc watched Jacque and d'Artagnan square off in the training grounds. There were more smiles and respectful taunts than the vengeful and hateful threats they threw at each other when Jacque first joined the musketeers. The sound of scuffling feet and metallic strikes filled the air, but it was a peaceful morning. There was no better day for a quick scrimmage.

"Well, I for one, will enjoy ever second of it," Siroc said sipping some water from a cup. "A brilliant mind cannot think if it is interrupted by childish bickering over things like food or women. I highly enjoy my mornings now."

D'Artagnan tossed his rapier to Siroc while Jacque gave hers to Ramon. "Your turn," she said, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Siroc and Ramon pushed themselves from the wall they were leaning on, and walked to the training square. Two circled each other for a few second before engaging into a bout. Jacque snickered at d'Artagnan when they were far enough away.

"What?" he said in annoyance. "That was a lucky shot."

"You move your left hand right before you lunge," she said simply.

" I do not!" he shot back. In truth, he knew that more than anyone and had been working on the flaw for quite some time. In the eyes of a common person, they could never tell that his left wrist flinched slightly when he was about to attack. In the eyes of a musketeer, however, he signed his death warrant.

She smiled and laughed, something she had been able to do until lately. When he saw her lips curve and her teeth flash him a dazzling grin, he felt at ease. "I only know that because I've been sparring with you for so long." They shared a quiet moment with one another, but a loud whinny broke it.

A horse snorted and sniffed loudly as it approached just outside the square beyond Siroc and Ramon. They continued their bout, unaware of the newcomer. Their concentration laid with one another, and neither wanted to give the other the upper hand.

"Message for Laponte, from the Americas!" a man shouted, waving a letter in his hands.

Jacque felt her heart stop, and it took all of her will not to run over to the man and rip open the letter right then and there. She calmly walked to the messenger, hands clutched behind her back, and stood tall like a gentleman. "I am Laponte," she said in a low tone. Then she felt the thin parchment between her fingers, and her nerves jumped with joy.

'Gerard,' she thought. It had been over a half year since he left her all alone and set sail for the Americas. Every night she prayed that he arrived there in good health and that he was able to care for himself in the strange land.

She thanked the messenger and turned toward the resting rooms. Her only sanctuary was the room that Duval had given her. When the door closed she broke the seal that kept her brother's words from her eyes.

Dearest Jacqueline,  
I have made it to the Americas safely as I am sure you have asked God and father to watch over me. It is a strange world, and not many speak French, but I have found a few friends who were also in hiding from the Cardinal. We have found work, and I managed to save enough to send you a letter that I hope finds you well. Though I am leagues from you, I am here for you. I love you with all of my heart. Stay safe, and do not do anything rash like you always tend to.

Your brother, Gerard.

She clutched the letter to her heart. 'He's alive,' she thought with relief. She slipped the letter into her pocket when she heard someone knocking on her door.

"Jacque?" called d'Artagnan's voice. "Everything all right?"

She opened it, finding herself face to face with the handsome man. "It's Gerard," she said after she looked around the hallways to make sure no one was there. "He's safe and alive."

"Your brother?" d'Artagnan asked. "Well, that's wonderful!"  
She could not hold back the girlish giggle that escaped from her lips. From day one, the worry she felt for her brother never eased. She felt the pressure in every waking moment, and at times, she had nightmares of her brother lying dead somewhere never to be seen again. All of it slipped away when she read the few but precious words from her sibling. "All this time, I was so worried for him. Now at least I know that he is well."

D'Artagnan brushed her cheek with his fingers in a light touch, but he halted when Siroc and Ramon rounded the corner. He cleared his throat to get Jacque's attention, "Jacque, we should really be reporting to the captain."

She looked at him puzzled, but she straightened her posture when she heard two pairs of boots behind her. "Yes, you're right. He might have an assignment for us today."

"And that assignment is to help me in my laboratory," Siroc said. "The captain asked that one of you help me for my next invention. The plans that I have in mind require two men, not just one."

D'Artagnan steered clear from Siroc's inventions as best as he could. Ever since the day that his flying contraption had been shot down taking him, Jacque, and Gerard with it, he has been weary of trying anything that Siroc made. Besides, he had no idea how they worked, and what ever he touched that Siroc made it seemed to break. "Ahhh, maybe Jacque will be a better assistant than me. After all, he has a woman's touch."

Jacque glared at him and punched him right in the arm, knocking him into the wall. Ramon and Siroc winced when they saw d'Artagnan almost fly into the stone cold wall. "You had that one coming, my friend," Ramon said, whistling, admiring Jacque's strength.

"Ow!" D'Artagnan groaned, rubbing his shoulder. He could already feel the bruise forming.

"Well, if that was a woman's touch, I would hate to see you if I punched like a man," Jacque said, then stormed off to Siroc's office.

"Well, then you two have fun with patrol duty," Siroc said, completely ignoring d'Artagnan's moans of pain.

Jacque and Siroc had been at work for three hours now, yet they still had no idea what they were creating. "Siroc, don't you have any clue as to what you're building?" she said, eyeing the strange contraption.

"I don't know yet but," he said stepping around his invention, "I know that water should be shooting out from this end due to the pressure that this," he pointed to a lever, "generates." It was connected to another set of tubes and a large tub.

Jacque stepped up on a platform to steady the large tube that protruded from where she was standing. "Stay right there, Jacque," Siroc said. He held his hands out and walked backward looking at the whole scene. "Perhaps... perhaps a body should be there after all."

"Where I am standing?" Jacque asked. "But according to you, there should be water coming from here." She pointed to the tube above her head. "I would get drenched."

"But!" Siroc said, pointing up a finger. "What if you were meant to get wet! Sure, it sounds crazy now, but it's because you are clothed."

"What?" she asked, feeling a blush rise on her cheeks. "Because I am clothed?"

Siroc pulled Jacque away from the platform and made her stand next to him. "Imagine it, Jacque. A convenient way to wash without diving into a body of water. The water will come to you."

"But you will have to build something to hide the body. There still is a law about indecent exposure," Jacque said, imagining that if she tried the new contraption, she would find herself in an embarrassing predicament.

Siroc clapped his hands together. "A shield then! But that will wait till later. We have worked hard today." He patted Jacque on the shoulder. "We should change and report to Duval. I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to hear about this new discovery." He walked across the room to hang up his apron and slip into his musketeer uniform.

Jacque forced a half hearted smile. She had a special place in her heart for Siroc, but this conversation was nothing but awkward. How Siroc imagined her as a naked man, she had no idea, and she did not want to waste another second thinking about it. She heard him in the back, figuring out a name for his invention.

"Hmm... something that has to do with rain... pouring..." he said, his voice muffled by a bookcase. He was snapping his fingers together, trying to form the words in his head.

Jacque pulled her own apron off and sighed slipping her arms into her overcoat. She did not realize that the letter from Gerard had slipped from the pocket.

"Sprinkling..." Siroc continued. "Showering...shower? Shower!" he cried out. His face peered around the bookshelf. "I shall call it a shower!" He shifted his coat to fit his shoulders and stepped out. He gestured for Jacque to leave his office first, and she obliged. "Just a few more trials and I shall have the first shower ever created! Why I may even present it to the king before the end of the week!"

Jacque nodded, relieved to be out of Siroc's little laboratory. "Sounds like a great idea you have going. I'm sure that the king will love it more than your sub-aquatic chamber." They were just outside of Captain Duval's room when Siroc stepped back suddenly. "Ah! My notes! I left them back at the room. Tell Duval the overall idea, Jacque. I'll be right back."

"All right," Jacque said and knocked on Duval's door.

"Come in," said the voice behind the thick wooden door. When Duval saw Jacque emerge in his doorway, his eyes lit up with hope. "So? How did it fare?" he asked.

Siroc looked around his desk for the plans to the shower he was just on the verge of creating. "Plans... notes...drawings," he counted the items that he held in his hands. His eyes fell upon another piece of parchment that was left at the foot of his desk. "Must have fallen from the desk," he picked it up and opened it. His eyes scanned along the first few lines, and his thoughts of the shower were cut off. "Jacqueline? The fugitive?" He knew that the letter was not his own, and the only other person it could have belonged to was ..."Jacque."


	2. Jacqueline Roget

Jacqueline Roget

Cardinal Mazarin circled around his quarters in frustration, going  
nowhere in particular. The musketeers had again thwarted him, mocking his position in the order. As the cardinal that served as an advisor to the young king of France, he had to praise the musketeers for their victories. But as the leader of the occult, deep down, the king's guards made his blood boil over.

At first, he merely wanted to keep them around to divert the king's attention, but as of late they had grown into more than a mere nuisance. Bernard, his right hand man, had once mentioned that it would be best to slit all of the musketeers' throats, but Mazarin had told him to calm down. Now... now slitting their throats and leaving their bodies to be picked by vultures seemed to be a fabulous idea.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," Mazarin said. He turned to face the door, feeling the long robe of red flow with his movement. He expected one of his informants to walk into his room. Would it be the "deaf" man or the old wilting woman whom no one paid attention to, or perhaps one of 'his' musketeers. He had to admit it was one of the little surprises that he enjoyed during the day.

But it was Bernard. "Your eminence," he bowed the moment his eyes set upon the Cardinal.

"What is it, Bernard? Make it quick. His majesty needs my  
recommendation for the taxes that are to be collected within the week." The captain pulled a scroll of parchment from his inner pocket and unfolded it. The wanted poster exposed the face of the lovely Jacqueline Roget. "She has not been found, but she has been spotted."

Now that caught his attention. Cardinal Mazarin's eyes sparkled with an evil glint. "My, my. And exactly where did our run away 'murderer' flee to?" he asked eyeing the poster with vengeful lust. He was quite busy with keeping the order far from the king's eyes and ears, so he did not spend much time thinking about capturing the woman who had killed his original captain. Quite frankly, he had forgotten all about her. He needed something to amuse himself with. The dungeons were getting quite bare, and he was running out of human experiments.

"Back at the farm where her father was killed," Bernard said.

There was a snicker that escaped from his lips. "Stupid woman is in mourning still."Mazarin grabbed the poster and stared at Jacqueline. "Quite the beauty but twice the fool. Her love for her father is what made her the fugitive, and that exact love will make her a captive." He returned the poster to Bernard. "Find her," he said and Bernard turned to leave, but Mazarin knew the man better than most. "But," he added, and the captain stopped in his tracks. "Don't kill her. She'll prove a greater use if she is alive."

It was late in the night, and most of the men retired to their beds  
seeking rest and sleep. Siroc stared at the letter in his hands, still contemplating on how to confront the issue. He had not taken it to Duval as he originally planned, but he could not leave the matter alone either. His mind played out all types of scenarios involving his comrade and the murderer, Jacqueline Roget. His light brown eyes looked over the scribbled letters written by Gerard, who was supposedly her brother. No  
matter what the wanted posters said, Siroc did not truly believe that Jacqueline was a murderer.

The letter mentioned running from the Cardinal and hiding from him. Siroc was willing to bet his life that thedeath of the Cardinal's captain was in self defense. If Siroc was anything in his life, he was an observant man of logic and science. The  
Cardinal's claims did not always prove true, and he was not the only one to realize that. But the question remained, 'What does this have to do with Jacque?' he thought.

Siroc came up with a few theories of his own while he pondered the question. Perhaps, the two met while the young woman was in hiding, and Jacque believed her when she said that she was innocent. Jacque being the good man that he was, offered his assistance in her time of need. Siroc came to a believable conclusion. Maybe the reason why Jacque never approached any of the women that flocked to him was because he was in love with Jacqueline Roget. That would explain his absence in the invitations that Ramon and d'Artagnan sent his way. Before Siroc knew it, he stood before Jacque's door.

He lifted his hand to knock, but he hesitated before his knuckles could touch the wooden door. "So Jacque, are you aiding a fugitive in hiding?" Siroc said to himself. How could he address something like this? Despite what the musketeers believed about the Cardinal, it was breaking the law to help a murderer, even if they were innocent. The only way of being released from such a crime was through the king himself. He knocked on the door. It was now or never.

"Jacque?" he called. He heard a muffled grunt behind the door and glass shattering. There was wild rustling, and he could have sworn that he heard a body hit the floor. Jacque was fighting with someone inside!

"Jacque!" Siroc yelled and grabbed his rapier. He kicked the door open thinking that his friend was in trouble, but what he found was not what he had expected.He stared in awe when he found a woman lying on the floor, below the open window. A small table had been knocked over, spilling a few glass objects and books to the ground. The moonlight shone through the window  
silhouetting the woman's frame, and her features were defined by the candlelight from the corner of the room.

A dress of violet and white was bundled underneath her in a messy heap. Her almond eyes were wide with shock, and her mouth was partway open, unable to speak. Her hair was a tangled mess, covering a large portion of her face, but when she brushed a large amount of the locks of hair away, he could see a bit more of the beautiful face beneath them. Siroc knew that he had stumbled upon Jacqueline Roget.

Instincts took over and Siroc, though against his better judgment, pointed the tip of the rapier at Jacqueline's neck. "Mademoiselle Roget," he said. There was a tight knot forming in his throat. He felt that he was wrong, but he could not let her escape, especially if a witness saw her being released from the musketeers' custody. If word got out to the king, the musketeers would lose much of their credibility.

Slowly, she rose to her feet and held her hands out indicating that she was unarmed. "Let me explain..." she said out of desperation. 

Her face was still hidden in the shadows of the room.  
Outside the room, Siroc could hear the voices of d'Artagnan and Ramon. The Spaniard ran into the room, armed and ready for the unexpected. "Siroc! We heard a shout!" He too halted in his step when he saw Jacqueline. He looked from Siroc to Jacqueline then back to Siroc still trying to comprehend the situation. "What is going on here?"

"Oh boy," d'Artagnan said from the doorway. He knew that this would happen one day, but he didn't think it would end up like this. Siroc held Jacqueline hostage, and for the first time since they met, he saw that Jacqueline was scared. He wanted to go to her and comfort her, but Siroc did not seem intent on lettering her go.

The air was full of an awkward tension that the four emitted. There was a pure silence. No one moved a muscle. Every one of them contemplated the problem they now faced, but no one acted. Soon, d'Artagnan stepped next to Siroc and placed his hand on the hilt. "Put it down, Siroc."

"She's a fugitive," Siroc said, unmoving. "A murderer." His eyes had not left Jacqueline since he kicked the door open.

"He's right, d'Artagnan," Ramon said, but he sheathed his rapier. He could never bring himself to harm a woman with a weapon, murderer or not.

"She needs to be brought in."

"I'm innocent," Jacqueline pleaded.

"Are you?" Siroc shot back.

"I am!" she said, the tears forming in her eyes. How many times must she say it? How many times must she prove her innocence? Her lips quivered, and her feelings threatened her to break down in front of all of them, but she refused to allow it.

"You murdered a man."

"And a captain of the Cardinal's men at that," Ramon added.

"I killed the man who murdered my father in front of me!" she hissed.

"Did you?" Siroc asked in mockery.

"Siroc!" she yelled, trying to convince him.

He blinked. He knew that tone, that voice. It called to him many a time when he was in danger or when it felt worried for his safety. It took him some time to realize how much he cherished that tone, but nonetheless it was dear to him. That voice belonged to a friend. He narrowed his eyes, using the tip of his rapier to brush away the remaining strands of hair from that lovely face. "Oh my god..."


	3. Realization

Realization

Pure shock and astonishment covered Siroc's face. He lowered his rapier when he realized who Jacqueline Roget was to him. 'Jacque is...' his thoughts ran wild throughout his mind. Now everything made sense. Jacque's secretive lifestyle, the interactions with d'Artagnan, and the timing of his appearance and Jacqueline's disappearance. He shook himself and  
grabbed Jacqueline's arm roughly, almost dragging her along with him.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, resisting him. She tried to break free of his grasp, but despite the training she had undergone in the past few months, she was no match for any of the men physically.

D'Artagnan drew out a knife from his belt and held it to Siroc's neck when he attempted to pass by him. "Let her go," he said in a deadly tone. He and Siroc had been friends for years, but he would face his friend and save the woman he loved rather than standing back and do nothing for her. If it came down to it, he would fight Siroc to free Jacqueline.

Ramon put his hands up defensively when he saw his friends turning on one another. He had never seen them in such a state before. That morning they were enjoying a daily routine patrol and drinks afterwards. Now they were facing each other over a woman, looking as though they would each kill the other man. "Now d'Artagnan, calm down," he said.

Siroc didn't pay any attention to d'Artagnan and pushed Jacqueline out of her room and toward the end of the hallway. "My laboratory. Hurry.

Duval is coming with the others," he said hearing numerous footsteps not far from them. "Go!" He had to raise his voice to get her to start moving.

At first, Jacqueline was afraid for her life, feeling the hurt and  
betrayal cut through her when she assumed that Siroc would turn her in. But now, he was willing to save her life and risk his own. "Thank you," she whispered and took off running toward Siroc's laboratory.

D'Artagnan suddenly felt like an idiot and moved the knife from Siroc's neck. He felt a little worried because he had not moved the blade when Siroc shoved Jacqueline away. A thin red line appeared on his skin just below his chin. "I'm sorry, Siroc. I didn't know...," he began, putting the knife back in the sheath at his belt.

"But you knew about her," Siroc said, ignoring the stinging sensation on his neck.

When Jacqueline was out of sight, Duval came limping forward, sword in hand. There were two other musketeers behind him, equally ready. They all stopped short when they saw no assailant, but there certainly seemed to have been a struggle.

"What happened?" he asked looking at his three musketeers.  
The three men stood bewildered, searching for a believable explanation to give their captain. When they looked around Jacque's room, they found it to be a complete mess. A table was half way turned over, broken glass covered the floor, and the window was suspiciously wide open.

"Well?" Duval said, putting his sword down seeing that there was no danger.

Ramon spoke up first. "Well you see sir, we had a surprise for Jacque." He looked to his comrades for encouragement. He raised his eyebrows at them signaling them to help him.

"Oh yes, right... a surprise for Jacque!" d'Artagnan said with a  
nervous chuckle. 

"Surprise?" Duval asked.

"Yes, sir," Siroc added. "You see, it's Jacque's birthday tomorrow, and we wanted to decorate the room a little for him. As you can see, we're not exactly the most graceful at rearranging a room. And the yell," he said emphasizing the last word, "that you heard was me checking to see if Jacque was in or not." The three of them looked to one another with skeptical glances.

Duval felt that his musketeers were hiding something from him. He didn't practically raise them since they were young teens and not figure out some of their habits. He knew them well enough to realize when they were keeping secrets  
from him. "Well, it's the middle of the night, so where is Jacque?" he asked.

'dn it,' Siroc thought. How was he to reply now? 'SHE'S in my  
laboratory, hiding from the law and scared for her life.'

D'Artagnan used his charismatic acting skills on the captain; he placed a hand on the Duval's arm indicating that he wished for only the captain to hear him. Duval leaned forward so that d'Artagnan could whisper to him. "Well, you see sir, he is in mourning. He received news earlier this evening that his father had just passed." D'Artagnan knew that this was only half true, but there was truth nonetheless. "He asked to be left alone for a while."

"Oh, I see," Duval said, suddenly feeling empathy for the young man.

Jacque was a good man, always eager to help around the garrison and hardly any trouble. He never asked for special treatment when he was first recruited, and he certainly never backed down when the higher ranks gave him a hard time. "Don't let him stay out for long. Find him if he doesn't return within the hour," Duval said, leaving the room. "Go back to  
bed," he ordered the other musketeers. They nodded and allowed the captain passage through the hall.

D'Artagnan let out a breath of relief when the Captain left. "That was close," he said. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Siroc and Ramon eyeing him closely.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Ramon said, still not quite over the shock of discovering that his friendwas a woman.

Jacqueline never realized all the contraptions and pieces of equipment that Siroc kept in his little lair. At most, she came in to ask him a question or get him to leave the laboratory for an assignment or church. She didn't take the time to fully view the room as she should have. Even when they were working on the 'shower' as Siroc would call it, she did not take in the wonders of the lab. She only paid attention to the matter at hand and ignored everything else. Siroc was indeed a genius,  
she concluded.

The door opened, and she scurried to a dark corner hiding her face. She was relieved to see her three friends enter the room, but at the same time she felt nervous and frightened. What would happen to her now?

"Relax," she heard d'Artagnan's voice. "It's us."

Jacqueline walked into the light still cautious of the attention she  
was receiving from Ramon and Siroc. She moved slowly, taking one step at a time toward them. Their reaction to her would decide whether or not she would have to make a run for it.  
She cleared her throat. "So now you know." The little secret was out.

Ramon walked right up to her, and the two shared a tense glance. He looked at her as if she were a whole new person to him. His eyes bore into hers, and she shifted uncomfortably. She scoffed, her trademarkscowl now apparent on her features. "Look, Ramon..." but his laugh cut her off and she found herself in a breathtaking hug.

"My god! Why did you not tell us?" he asked when he separated from her. He still had his hands upon her shoulders. "A woman!" he said with a welcoming smile. "Would have never expected that one, but I am more hurt that you could not confide in us. I mean, surely, Siroc or I would have been better candidates for keeping a secret than d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan moved to say something in his defense, but Siroc stepped in front of him. "I suppose having more than one person know would have been fatal to her," he said, still observing Jacqueline. "I always thought something was strange about your behavior." He looked at d'Artagnan then back to Jacqueline. "Both of yours."

Jacqueline could not hold in her surprise. Her eyes grew wide when she realized that they were still going to accept her. "So, you're not going to turn me in?" she asked with a newly lit hope.

"No, no we're not," Siroc said. "How could we? Then we wouldn't be the four musketeers." "Of course not!" Ramon said. "You are still you, no?"

Jacqueline covered her mouth in pure happiness. Without another thought, she grabbed Ramon and Siroc into a fierce hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..." she kept whispering to them. The tears came when she could no longer see herself at the gallows, about to be sent to her death. She backed away, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

"Oh come now," Ramon said. He gave her a light punch in the shoulder.

"We can't have you crying now, Jacque," he used a manly tone to say her make believe name. "Isn't that right, Siroc?"

Siroc seemed to come from a trance when his name was called. He had not been close to a woman for a while. He almost forgot what is was like to feel another's warmth against him. The sudden action of Jacqueline wrapping an arm around him reminded him of what it felt like to be loved, to be embraced by someone who truly knew and cared for him. The only person he was reminded of that had such love for him was his mother.

"Right... right. This doesn't change anything at all."


	4. A Turn for the Worst

A Turn for the Worst

The next morning, the four had agreed to meet at Cafe Nouveau for breakfast. There was a silent promise amongst them not to mention what happened the night before. Each of them ordered what their stomachs desired and waited patiently.There had been occasional awkward glances sent to Jacque by Ramon, but  
it had been out of mere astonishment. No longer could he think of Jacque as... well... Jacque. But he had learned to love his friend like a brother, and he promised himself that he would not send Jacqueline to her death. He would keep that promise till he himself died. "So, Jacque..." he said to get his comrade's attention.

She turned to him. "Yes?"

"What do you think of my date for tomorrow evening?" Ramon asked, pointing to a cute brunette. She caught Ramon's gaze and waved to him with a shy smile.

Jacque felt the corners of her mouth turn upward. "I'd say that's the best one you've found so far. She's pretty and modest. I like her," Jacque was relived to see that Ramon had not changed much of his attitude toward her, but Siroc was another matter.

The inventor had been more silent around her, less inclined to interact with her. When their eyes would meet, he would turn away and avert his attention to something less trivial and unimportant just to break the small connection. She made up her mind. She was going to have a one on one talk with him before the end of the day.

"Great," d'Artagnan muttered. "The crimson pigs are here." He saw the Cardinal's captain, Bernard leading a small group of men into the cafe.

"Attention citizens of Paris," Bernard said loudly. He made sure to have everyone's attention upon him before he continued. He held a piece of parchment in his hands and read from it. "The runaway fugitive, Jacqueline Roget, has been spotted near the musketeer garrison and its neighboring areas. The reward has been increased from 1,000 pieces of gold to 2,000 pieces. If found, she is to be brought in alive and unharmed." He glared at the table that the musketeers sat at. "And if one is found helping this wanted criminal, they will be severely punished for treason to His Majesty the King. A threat and crime committed to the Cardinal is no different than committing them against the king himself."

A low murmur filled Cafe Nouveau. Heads were brought together and words were spoken of plans on how to capture Jacqueline Roget. Before any questions could be asked, the Cardinal's men had left. Bernard nailed the new poster on the doorframe of the Cafe.

"2,000 gold pieces!" said a man in a corner.

"Can you believe it?" answered another. "Imagine what I could do with that much!"

Jacque felt three pair of eyes on her. She felt her heart stop, and her face drained of all color when she heard the news. "No..." she said under her breath. She could feel a warm pressure on her arm. D'Artagnan had placed his hand on her elbow.

"Jacque..." he didn't know what to say. What could he say? Just when things seemed to be turning for the better, this had to happen.

She didn't respond to him; she just sat there impassive and void of expression. She heard snickering coming from the table next to them. They were saying something about capturing the alluring woman Jacqueline and using her for their own pleasure before they would return her to the Cardinal. That set her off. She stood violently, almost tipping over her chair, and stormed to  
the other table.

"You will do no such thing," she spat. She grabbed the man by his shirt and glared into his small beady eyes.

"What are you going to do about it, musketeer?" the man said, spitting on the floor next to her boots.

She didn't realize what she had done, but before she could register her actions, the man was favoring a bloody nose. She could feel arms around her waist and chest pulling her away from the man she stood over. "Let me go!" she said, flailing.

Siroc was quite surprised to feel the strength that she had. He was a fool to believe for a moment that she was as delicate as most women in Paris. "Calm down now!" he hissed at her. With a powerful shove, he pushed her to d'Artagnan. "Take him back to the garrison."

Ramon was busy keeping the other men from starting a fight with Jacque. He threw them a story about Jacque's father dying, and how he was still unsettled and in mourning. They tried to push through him, but Ramon stood his ground.

D'Artagnan kept a strong hold on Jacque, unwilling to let her go. She still struggled against him, but he overpowered her. By some miracle, he managed to pull them out of Cafe Nouveau and onto the street. When she had calmed, he let her go. "What's wrong with you?" he asked when she furiously straightened her clothes. "Doing something that stupid would have surely gotten you exposed."

Then she gave him a look that stopped him dead. Her eyes were unreadable, her expression stoic. She looked at him, and he could feel his soul being pierced. His heart ached for the pain that he knew she was feeling, and it hurt him even more that he could do nothing to help her. He wanted to know what she was thinking, why she was looking at him like that. Suddenly, she seemed so far from him. No matter how far he reached, he could never be close enough to touch her and hold her. His lips parted slightly to say something else, but she turned her back and left him.

"Jacque," he called to her, but she did not turn back. 'What was that about?' he thought. She had never looked at him that way. She looked like she was lost, and she made an ultimate decision. But for now, he was satisfied that she was walking back to headquarters and not to the fight.

He heard steps behind him. "How is she?" Ramon asked, looking at Jacque's retreating form.

"I don't know. She didn't say anything to me," d'Artagnan said. He could feel his heart breaking for her. By god, she was a strong woman. He knew that she wanted to tell him everything that she felt, but she could not do it as Jacque Laponte. She still kept her guise.

Siroc joined them soon after. "Is she going back?" he asked.

D'Artagnan nodded. "She should have some time to deal with her feelings. Things are getting uglier by the minute for her. She needs us."

"She's never asked anything of us when we first met. If not back then, it's now more than ever," Siroc agreed.

'Dn that man! Dn him!' she cursed in her mind when she thought of the man in red. She paced from wall to wall in her room. Her hands were fidgeting with her clothes and with her hair. Her thoughts were running wild, pure hatred blinded her common sense. She stopped at the window that she had snuck intothe night before.

It was an innocent trip. She wanted to see her father again, but she didn't want to visit him as Jacque Laponte. She wanted to see her passed on father, not as a soldier of the king, but as his daughter. She wore a dress of a violet shade for him. It was his favorite color, but he only admitted it to her, not her mother or even Gerard.

Giselle, the dressmaker, was nice enough to offer a discount for the dress. Luckily, the dress naturally fit her size. It wasn't too small or too big; it was made as if to fit only her. Jacqueline purchased it the moment she saw it, and she decided that she would visit Claude Roget.

How had she been spotted? How? Now, surely, Mazarin would find out where she was. That could not happen! Her revenge was now beyond the mere killing of his captain. She wanted to liberate France, her country, her home. She felt the rage flow through her, and she could feel her heart beating faster and faster. Her hand balled up into a fist and she punched through the window.

She watched as most of the shards burst from the window. She could hear them raining down on the stone ground just outside. She felt some of the glass pieces cutting into her skin. She couldn't feel it, the pain. She saw the blood drip from her hand, but she ignored it.The pain she felt in her heart was not for her own safety; it was for her friends. Siroc, Ramon, d'Artagnan... they would be executed as well if Mazarin found out that they were helping her. No, she wouldn't allow that to happen. She loved them, even Captain Duval. She made that decision when she looked at d'Artagnan outside Cafe Nouveau. She did not  
want to hurt him in any way; she did not want to make him suffer  
because of her. She knew... she knew that she could not stay with the musketeers.

D'Artagnan knocked on Jacque's door again. "Jacque, you there?" he called out. No answer. He knocked again looking at Ramon and Siroc with a confused expression. "Are you sure Jean said he didn't leave his room?"

"Positive," Ramon said. "He told me that Jacque went in since we came back from breakfast and never came back out."

Siroc stood silent. Something felt wrong. His eyes never left Jacqueline since the announcement of the raise in reward for her capture. Her expressions evolved from fear, to hate, to rage, then to total disbelief. How long had he known her? They had been comrades for half a year now, and he had been able to pick up a few habits that each of friends possessed. Jacque was hardly emotional and never allowed anyone to see her true feelings. But what would happen if those pent up feelings were let loose suddenly. If he didn't know any better, he'd think that Jacqueline was... "Gone."

"What?" d'Artagnan asked. He looked at Siroc as though he had not heard him correctly. There it was again. The fear he had not felt since the day that he thought Jacqueline was dead when he pulled her from the river. He felt Siroc move him to the side.

"She's gone," he said, his voice breaking. He didn't bother with the door knob and kicked it open once again. As he expected, the room was vacant. 'Stupid woman,' he thought. 'How can we protect you, if you run from us?' He ran out of the room and ran straight to the stables.

D'Artagnan and Ramon wasted no time. They too followed him and mounted their horses. "I'll sweep the streets," d'Artagnan said.

"I'll take the outskirts, if she's gotten that far," Ramon said.

"I'll look around the river," Siroc lied. Years and years he had spent observing and analyzing not just machines and inventions, but people as well. If an innocent that was accused of murder was desperate and had no way out, they would go straight to the source. He knew where Jacqueline would be heading. She was going straight to Mazarin.


	5. Together

Together

Siroc rode faster than he ever thought possible. He felt terrible for lying to d'Artagnan and Ramon, but he did not feel that they would understand. He had kept secrets, but he had never lied to them upfront. He feared that if all three of them confronted her, it would only make matters worse. Having only one worried individual to deal with was better than three at a time. He saw the broken glass, and he saw the blood. There was no doubt in his mind; Jacqueline was in no state of mind to be badgered by several people.

He felt his heart lift slightly when he saw that Jacqueline had not taken her horse. The white mare was safely in the stables eating mouthfuls of hay. She could not have gone far on foot. The only question was, how long it has been since she left?

The castle that the heir to the throne resided in came into view. Guards were posted outside the main gate, and scouts patrolled the higher levels. Only a few lighted windows were visible, indicating that the young king and his advisor were still awake. Siroc slowed his pace now, trying not to draw any attention to himself.

He dismounted from his mare and slowly made his way through the small forest of trees that surrounded the outskirts of the castle. He had to find her. He must find her, even if it took all night to search the castle grounds or even break into it. Step by step he crept forward, pushing away branches and stepping over large rocks and twigs. If a musketeers was caught just outside the king's residence in the middle of the night, it would raise suspicion and taint the relationship that the musketeers had with their king. He took one more step before he felt a cool blade touch his neck from behind.

"Jacque?" he said with uncertainty. He raised his hands to show that he had no intention of fighting back. Slowly, he turned, the blade never leaving him. He became deathly aware of how close the blade was; he could feel the cold sting of sharp metal.

"You shouldn't be here, Siroc," she said, stepping into the moonlight.

He took a step back, moving with her. When the light had touched her, he realized that she had become Jacqueline Roget once more.

"You're a woman again," Siroc stated. She wasn't wearing the elaborate dress that he had seen her in the night before. The dress she wore didn't suggest nobility at all. It was a plain old garment made of a dull white and a faded blue color. She resembled a peasant girl like a... farmer's daughter. This has to be symbolic,' he thought. "Is that what you wore when your father was killed?"

"Murdered," she corrected in a deadly tone. "And yes, I wore this very dress. I want Mazarin to see me and to remember me. I want him to remember the woman who he heartlessly orphaned. I want him to know that the poor farm girl," she said with menace, "is the one who will bring his death."

"And that's why Jacque Laponte will no longer exist?" Siroc asked. She was being foolish. He had to do something, anything, to get here away from here. He longed to tell her that not all was lost. There was still some hope left for her. This was not the only path she could take, there was another option open to her.

She finally withdrew her weapon, lowering her arm. She pushed past Siroc, intent on leaving him behind. "I can't let the musketeers fall for my behalf. I won't hurt you or the others."

"You left us."

She stopped right there. He didn't wait for a reaction of any kind from her. "You hurt us the moment you decided to leave. If you weren't thinking of me or Ramon, then think of d'Artagnan," he said to her back. "You MUST see it. He loves you more than his own life. If you are killed, what will happen to him?" He had thrown out the last words in sheer desperation.

Never in his life had he seen d'Artagnan happy with a woman, granted that Siroc had never known that Jacque was Jacqueline. Now that he knew, Siroc felt a need to protect her as well as the relationship between her and one of best friends. 'So why?' he thought in the back of his mind. 'Why do I feel even a bit reluctant to help -them-?' He did not want to waste another moment with the thought. This very moment was not about him, it was about Jacqueline. He would come back to his thoughts later, when things have calmed.

Jacqueline's mind raced back to the night of d'Artagnan's promise. She knew that he meant every word that was said in that oath, but it was a promise that she felt was made in vain. "He can't love Jacqueline Roget; he shouldn't, Siroc," she said feeling her heart break. Her voice lost all traces of venom and malice. It was now meek and quiet. "What use is it to love and never be able to show it?" Since that night she had wanted d'Artagnan to hold her again, but she could never openly admit it. How could she? She was a woman in the guise of a man.

He didn't answer her; he couldn't answer her. How could he respond to a question to which he knew nothing about? The only thing he knew was logic and reason. When emotions would cloud the mind, he resorted to fact. "You can't kill Mazarin today," he said, and he would not take no for answer. "If you are found out, you will be forced to flee once more, and this time you may be chased out of Paris. If Roget leaves then so does Laponte. An assassination attempt was made, and then suddenly a musketeer disappears? Even if you do not intend to hurt us, you will," he said taking in a breath. His feet had slowly been carrying him to her but in slow calm strides. He saw her take a deep breath, watching as the tight grip on her sword begin to loosen and quiver.

"What would you have me do?" Jacqueline asked, turning to meet him. She didn't realize that he was a few feet from her. If he truly wanted to stop her, he could have easily overpower her at this point. Even though he spent the majority of his time cooped up in his laboratory, he was the stronger person and her sword skills would mean nothing against him.

"Do you love d'Artagnan? Do you love Ramon? Do you love me?" he asked feeling that familiar tight knot in his throat. He told himself he was foolish asking such a question, and he felt awkward, almost nervous. Saying the word love and adding himself in the same sentence made his hair stand on end, but what scared him most was that he wanted to hear only one answer.

She stood there, trying to read his face. The man was unpredictable at all times. She was sure that he would try every means necessary to stop her, and she was even ready to fight him with every bit of training she had. But he took a completely different approach now, and her heart could not lie to him. "You know I do, Siroc. All of you... even Captain Duval. In a way, he's like a father to me..." She looked at Siroc's uniform, the essence of the musketeer. All of the memories she had, the adventures they lived through, the troubles they ran into, the fun and laughter they shared... she was no longer willing to leave them behind. She looked to Siroc, the regret showing on her fine features.

"Then don't leave us," Siroc said, breathing a bit easier. He was finally getting through to her. There was a new found feeling that he had for Jacqueline Roget, and he could not place it. But he knew for a fact, that if she left now, he would bear the scar left by her forever. He looked down to his own rapier and drew it out. "Do you know the saying made famous by the musketeers before us?"

"How could I not?" she said. She had shouted out the phrase constantly when she and Gerard were children pretending to be musketeers. A sad smile crossed her lips when she thought of her brother. The letter she received earlier this week was the only thing keeping her from breaking down completely. She had to be strong for him though. He was trying his best in the Americas for her sake, and she will not forsake him. She will not throw her life away and leave him. She decided once and for all.

With his left hand, Siroc grabbed her hand with the sword and brought his rapier to her own. "All for one and one for all. We are musketeers, and we are -friends- with an unbreakable bond. What ever happens to one happens to all. We do not fight these types of battles on our own, we fight them together."

She stared at the point where the rapiers touched, and her decision to kill Mazarin faltered. Her eyes turned their gaze upon the window where the murderer of her father resided. Her goal was so close, but it was unreachable at this point. Siroc was right. She couldn't defeat Mazarin today, not now. There will come a day when she will be ready to face the Cardinal. D'Artagnan swore to her that he would liberate her from Mazarin, and she would be right there next to him fulfilling that promise.

She looked back to Siroc, and he patiently waited for her answer. She knew right then and there that she was a fool to even try and break the bond that had formed between the four of them. And she was an even bigger fool to have given up on the promise d'Artagnan had made. He loved her, how could she not see it? She wrapped her arms around Siroc in a loving embrace. "You are a true friend, Siroc," she said to him when she  
pulled away. "All right... together."

He felt that warmth leave as soon as it came. He forced a smile on his lips when she offered him a beautiful one. He offered her his hand to lead her back to where he had left his horse, so that they may return to the garrison. "Together then."


	6. For the Sake of Love

For the Sake of Love

D'Artagnan and Ramon sat just outside the main entrance to the musketeers' headquarters. The moon had risen high, and they had not found Jacqueline at all. It was as though she had vanished, never to be found again.

The streets were empty and there was no indication that anyone had fled the city. Siroc had not returned yet, and d'Artagnan was praying that it was because he came across her in his search. D'Artagnan had buried his face in his hands, his knees were brought up to his chest.

Ramon had stood up and leaned against the stone wall that faced his friend. "D'Artagnan," he started, "don't worry. She'll come back." He had never seen d'Artagnan so crushed and disheartened. When he told d'Artagnan that he had found no sign of Jacqueline, d'Artagnan's only response was that he remained silent and slowly sat on the ground, a look of disbelief covered his face.

D'Artagnan had not moved from his spot for nearly two hours. He kept telling himself that she was just blowing off some steam. She was going to come back; she was going to come back to him. That's all that it is,' he told himself. 'She wouldn't leave me... would she?' He closed his eyes tightly, refusing to believe that she would abandon him. He never felt this way about woman before. Since he had come to terms with his feelings, she was all he ever thought of. From the moment he awoke to the moment he drifted to sleep, and even then he dreamt of her. He knew that he was lost without her.

His head snapped up when he heard a horse riding up to the entrance. He saw a couple on the mare, and the woman jumped from the saddle of the horse and ran straight for him. "Jacqueline?" he said in a whisper. When he was sure that he was not imagining her image, he jumped to his feet and ran towards her. He could see that she had been crying moments before. She wore a beaten, worn out dress, but she looked more beautiful than ever.

When they met, d'Artagnan threw his arms around her body, afraid to ever let her go. One arm wrapped around her waist, and the other around the back of her neck. He felt her sobbing into his shoulder, and he hushed her, feeling the weight of the world lift from him. He heard her repeating to him, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." She clutched onto his shirt tightly, but he could care less.  
He only released his hold on her to cover her face in light kisses, but then he hugged her tightly again.

Behind her, he could see Siroc dismounting and walking toward them. His lips formed the name of his friend, but Siroc motioned for him to ignore his presence. He did nothing more, and walked by the couple without a second glance. Ramon joined him, but the Spaniard was the only one with a smile of relief and joy that was evident. Both men entered the musketeer garrison, leaving Jacqueline and d'Artagnan alone.

When Jacqueline pulled away, d'Artagnan touched her face with his fingertips in a soft caress. "I thought you were gone for good," he said, his voice was still full of worry. He wiped away the tears that came flowing from her eyes. "Don't ever do that again," he said looking into her almond eyes.

Her tear stained face glowed with life. How could she have ever thought that she was alone? She placed her hand on his cheek, memorizing every curve and line of that handsome face. She had longed for this moment since that day of her rescue. Though she saw him every day, it pained her to know that she could never show him how she felt. But at least they had this moment. "Je taime," she said.

For the first time, Jacqueline Roget and the musketeerd'Artagnan  
shared a kiss of love.

Ramon sighed in relief when he and Siroc were making their way back to their rooms. He stopped right before his own door and opened it. "That woman..." Ramon said. "She can really make a man worry." He let out a little laugh, but the lighthearted moment was torn when he saw Siroc's expression. The inventor was neither happy nor sad. He was stoic. He had not said one word to Ramon since they left the couple to themselves. Nothing was mentioned of how he found her or where he found her. He was lost in his own thoughts, unable to comprehend his feelings, and that scared him. Ramon placed a hand on his shoulder in concern.

"Hey comrade," he said. "Everything all right? You should be happy that you found Jacqueline, no?" This was certainly not the Siroc he was used to. Granted that his friend always kept a specific distance from him and d'Artagnan when his science called for him, but this was a different separation all together. "Did something happen between you and Jacqueline?" he asked in a reluctant tone.

Siroc snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Ramon speaking. "What? Me and Jacqueline?" What -did-happen? It was not that something happened to Jacqueline regarding him, but the other way around. He gave Ramon a nervous smile, hoping to brush off his friend. He needed time to think. "No, nothing happened. I was just glad to have found her before she did anything rash against the Cardinal... Good night, Ramon." He just left it at that, and went straight to his room. He hoped that this whole thing would blow over before morning.

Ramon just shrugged and entered his own room. He was taking off his jacket and shirt before something dawned on him. 'Wait a minute... Mazarin? But Siroc said he would check the river. The river is no where near the castle,' he thought to himself. He looked back to his door, tempted to catch up with Siroc and ask him questions. However, he decided against it. He would give Siroc time before he raised such a query.

Something -did- happen if not with Jacqueline, it was with him. He lay on his bed, enjoying the feeling of relaxing his muscles against a flat surface. Riding for hours had taken a toll on him and d'Artagnan and he welcomed the next few hours of sleep that he could get. He brought his arm over his eyes, and his last thought was, 'What is going on...?'

The dark, black dungeon was only lit by the torches that hung from the bleak and barren walls. It was abandoned save for one man. Mazarin took off the black mask that he used to cover the upper portion of his face. He slid off the hood of his cloak to reveal himself to the prisoner that he had strapped down on a cold stone slab. He felt superior to that poor pathetic creature that was struggling to gain freedom. His hands and feet were bound, and he was silenced by a sash that wrapped around the back of his neck.

This had been the third experiment this week, and still there were no results. Being the advisor to that pathetic excuse for a ruler made him realize the importance of being a patient man, but now his patience was wearing thin. He still had not fully understood the power of the obelisk, and deciphering its uses have proven fatal... at least to the thief and murderer. Now, another thief lay before him. He had been placed on the dungeon slab for two days now, without food and water.

"Now, now," Mazarin said in a mock soothing voice. "I promise that the pain will only last while you live." He grabbed for a knife that lay next to the prisoner's side, ignoring the muffled cries from the young man. Knife in hand, he raised it above the prisoner's chest...

"Your eminence," interrupted a voice.

Mazarin did not hide the annoyance he felt at that moment. "What is it Bernard? I am quite busy right now, so this better be good." He put the knife down and turned to see his right hand man still crouched over in a low bow. "This better be good," Mazarin said deciding whether or not he would stab the prisoner on the slab or the captain of his guard. He was beginning to feel agitated as of late because of his unsuccessful experiments. His collected fgade was starting to slip away with each failure.

Bernard rose. "Civilians have brought more women who resemble Jacqueline Roget. They are so alike in appearance that we need your guidance to decide which one is the real Roget."

Mazarin pursed his lips together. "How many women have been brought?" he asked out loud.

"Five, your eminence," Bernard said. He stood tall and kept his composure, but he was quite afraid of Mazarin at times. The Cardinal occasionally issued that their own men would be executed if he was annoyed by their presence. He was known for being cruel and heartless regardless if it were the civilians of Paris or his loyal followers. But with that fear came respect, and he was not afraid to exercise his authority over his men.

"How many of them have actual family?" Mazarin asked and grabbed for the knife again. He was playing with the tip, rubbing it in between his fingers.

"Only three of them sir," Bernard said. "The other two are slaves that no one would miss."

Mazarin contemplated the new facts that were presented to him. "Have the first three let go, but persuade the owners of the slaves to give them up." He needed more specimens.

"But sir, shouldn't you at least see them..."

"The girl has no family, Bernard. No father, no mother, and certainly no brother. If my memory serves, her father has entered the gates of heaven while my captain entered the gates of hell," Mazarin said remember what Jacqueline shouted before she killed his captain.

Mazarin pointed the knife at Bernard in a playfully sadistic manner. "What I want you to do, is keep the two slaves. However, offer them 200 gold pieces each for their slaves. That amount would suffice for far more than their worth." Some people were just as sick as he was. 'What people will do for money...' he thought when Bernard bowed again and left   
Mazarin to his work. He turned to his prisoner, getting back into the scientist's mentality. "Be proud," he said. "You are doing Paris a good deed... may God rest your soul."


	7. Ramon's Suspicion

Ramon's Suspicion

Ramon awoke to the sound of rapiers clashing against one another. He slowly opened his eyes, wincing every so often when the sun's rays blinded him as he turned over on either shoulder. His mouth opened into a yawn, and he sat up stretching his muscles. First he stretched his arms, moving them in circular motions. Then he worked on his neck muscles,  
rolling his head from left to right then vice versa. He turned from side to side to free his back muscles from tension. While he was preparing for a hard day as a musketeer, he heard a small cry of surprise coming from the training grounds.

That would be d'Artagnan,' Ramon thought. Now all he had to do was wait a few seconds before Jacque's triumphant laugh echoed throughout the musketeer garrison. As expected, the laugh came followed by d'Artagnan's whining. Ramon had been used to this morning ritual, but this time he pictured a woman standing over a defeated d'Artagnan. Strange how things changed so suddenly. 'Speaking of strange...'

His thoughts drifted over to Siroc. Should he confront the inventor about his odd behavior last night? Or should he just wait and let Siroc have his space? Ramon stood to his feet and dressed quickly. If there was anything that he hated, it was secrets that were kept from him.

He understood Jacqueline's silence; her life was in jeopardy, and d'Artagnan already knew her secret. To have anyone else know would have been deadly and fatal, but Siroc was almost like a childhood friend to him, if not a brother. The fact that Siroc separated himself from his friends told Ramon that something serious was bothering his friend. He opened his door and decided to skip his routine journey to Cafe Nouveau for  
breakfast. He needed to talk to Siroc.

It didn't take him long before he found himself in Siroc's laboratory. The door was propped open, and he called out for his friend. The last thing Ramon needed was to surprise Siroc and have the whole laboratory up in flames by some freak accident. "Siroc?" he said. He took one step into the lab and knocked on the wall quite noisily to stir some type of  
movement from within. "Siroc?" he said again, this time a bit louder.

He took the liberty of walking completely into the lab, somewhat on the defensive. He prepared for anything to happen; From a high powered machine gun to the canopy that fell from the ceiling to cover Siroc's inventions to... a very tired Siroc that looked like he passed out on his desk.

The young scientist's head rested in the crook of his arm, and he was slumped over in his chair. His legs offered little to no support for his weight, and Ramon bet himself that if the wall was not present, Siroc would have fallen and knocked his head against it. Ramon could hear light snoring coming from his friend, and he wondered at what hour Siroc was able to get sleep.

With soundless steps, he approached Siroc and placed his hand on his shoulder giving him a gentle shake. "Hey... Siroc. If captain Duval catches you napping at this hour, he'll give you morning patrol duty for a week." Siroc didn't stir at all. "Hey! Siroc, get up!" Ramon said with more force and received nothing still.  
He heard Siroc say something about water pressure and a circular frame.

He sighed looking at the unconscious man that occupied half the desk. 'It would be mean to just douse him with water, but what else can I do?' Ramon thought.

He heard voices enter the hallway just outside Siroc's lab. "You cheated! First it was the cow, now it's the hay from the stables," d'Artagnan said in a low moan. "Will you ever fight like a gentle-man- when engaged in a civil bout?" There was a bit more hidden connotation in the last statement.

"Sure, I will," Jacque said in a bright tone. "When you start acting like one." Ramon could hear a few snickers from other musketeers that probably occupied the eating room. A thought struck him. It was a far fetched idea, but maybe it would work. He walked to the doorway that served as the only means of entry and exit to the laboratory. He whistled to the bickering couple gaining their attention, "Excuse me Jacque, may I see you please?"

D'Artagnan was about to turn into another hallway; it was the one that led to Duval's office. Jacque looked at him when he silently offered to come, "It's all right. I'll be right there." He nodded and disappeared around the corner after he waved a "good morning" to Ramon. Jacque walked up to Ramon, wondering what he needed her for.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone raised slightly. When she was alone with those who shared her secret, she allowed herself to release the strain on her throat when talking to them. Talking like a man made her throat numb and scratchy at times. She welcomed every moment when she could talk normally again.

"Siroc seems to be having a hard time waking up this fine morning," Ramon said. "I was seeing if you could get him up before I resort to throwing cold water on him."

Jacque looked at him strangely. "Um...all right," she said and walked past Ramon and entered the lab. She too found Siroc asleep on his desk barely hanging from the edge. She looked back to Ramon who had remained in the doorway. He just shrugged his shoulders indicating that he didn't know how to wake him either. Jacque quietly walked up to Siroc and shook him just as Ramon did.

"Siroc?" she said in a whisper. Nothing. Then she said his name in a more demanding tone. "Siroc!"

That voice! That sweet voice that haunted him since he knew the truth behind it. That voice that has cried out to him when it was worried or concerned for his well being. That voice that belonged to the only woman who truly cared for him. His head shot up instantly, and he stood on his feet. No sooner had he gotten to his feet that he lost his balance and fell over, tripping on the boxes and spare parts that lay around him.

"Siroc!" Jacque cried out when she tried to reach for him, but she was too late. As he was falling over, he pulled on the lever that lowered the canopy on top of them. Ramon rushed over to the pair, trying to pull them from underneath the huge blanket. He could see someone's arm poking out of the canopy, and he tried to pull him... or her out.

"Jacque! Siroc!" he shouted. Limbs flailed about, almost knocking Ramon in the chin. "Lever!" Siroc's muffled cry came from underneath. "The lever!"

Ramon looked to the wall, and jumped over the squirming mess beneath him. He pulled on the lever again, and the canopy rose leaving Jacqueline and Siroc tangled with each other. Somehow, Siroc ended sprawled out on top of Jacque as though he attempted to reach the lever himself but failed miserably. They scrambled to their feet, straightening their clothes and hair. Siroc looked around in bewilderment as though he had forgotten that he was even in his own lab.

He then looked at Ramon and Jacque. "What happened? Why are you two here?" he asked.

Jacque retied her ponytail and let out a huff. "You almost killed me and yourself when you woke up suddenly. What's wrong, Siroc? You look terrible," she said in a worried voice. Her anger quickly subsided when Siroc looked like a lost child. Something was wrong with him. Her concern had actually started last night when she and Siroc were riding back to headquarters. He had not said a word to her, good or bad. Just nothing.

Siroc ran a hand through his unruly hair then took off the brown apron that he wore whenever he set foot in his sanctuary. "Nothing... I'm fine. I had this new idea last night for the shower, and I didn't realize the time. I don't even remember going to sleep like this," he lied to her. He could feel a flush on his cheeks when her eyebrows creased together in concern, and she stepped up to him.

Jacque's womanly and friendly instincts took over and she placed her hand on his forehead. "You feel feverish. Maybe you should ask Captain Duval for the day off," she said as her hand moved to touch his cheek. He backed away sharply, startling her.

"I'll be fine," he said, going back to his desk to pick up all the   
debris under it. "Tell the captain that I'll be in his office to report to him soon."

Jacque's hand flinched away when he stepped from her so suddenly. She felt hurt that he could not confide in her, but she let it be. Obviously, something was going on in that mind of his, and she wasn't sure that it was the shower. "I'll tell him," she said, then turned her back and walked out of the lab. It was a long morning already that she had with d'Artagnan. She had to admit that their little scrimmage go her hyped up for the day's assignments, but now Siroc was worrying her. 'Maybe, that shower isn't working out for him,' she thought to herself, but she found that she could not convince herself it to be true.

Ramon had kept quiet during the whole ordeal, but he was now more curious than ever. His original assumption proved at least half true. "Siroc?" he said to gain the inventor's attention. "I tried waking you several times already."

Siroc dumped the parchment, quills, and books back onto the desk. He looked at Ramon trying to figure out where he was going with this. "Thank you," he said curtly.

Ramon continued. "I tried knocking and calling your name."

"All right... what does that have to do with anything?" Siroc asked, sizing his books from biggest to smallest.

"I yelled at you many times, and still you did not wake," Ramon said again seeing Siroc's expression.

Siroc now felt slightly annoyed with the Spaniard. He hated being played with as much as Duval hated water. "What are you getting at?" he asked hotly.

Ramon placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward so that he could look Siroc straight in his face. He put his chin in his hands and pointed at Siroc, "You love Jacqueline."


	8. The Last Straw

The Last Straw

Siroc started at him blankly. He heard what Ramon had just said, but he wasn't sure if he actually understood. 'You love Jacqueline' echoed in his mind, but that one stubborn part of him immediately rejected the ridiculous idea. "Nonsense," Siroc said, snapping out of his thoughts.

"However you came about to such an absurd idea is clearly beyond..." he didn't know what else to say. His words began to drown out as soon as he said them. Slowly he looked to the ground, trying to comprehend this new fact. No... it wasn't a fact; it was a feeling, an emotion. He slouched over on the desk, placing both hands in front of him.

Ramon sighed, seeing the look of disbelief that made itself evident on Siroc's features. Any man would hate to be pitied, but he could help but feel some sympathy for his friend. "Siroc... love is..." but Siroc interrupted him.

The inventor suddenly walked from the table, narrowly missing the corner of the desk, and began pacing around his lab. He kept one hand was rubbing the back of his neck and the other was on his hip. He stopped short of the ladder that led up to the second level of the lab then turned away and walked toward another table that lay opposite of his main desk. He made the same round twice before he spoke again. "No, no..." he said. "This is not logical. I only found out about Jacqueline two days ago. There is absolutely no logical explanation that I harbor these feelings." A feeling like love was complex... complicated. It takes time for this emotion to begin and to grow... doesn't it?

Ramon held up his hands. "But comrade, a thing like love does not need explaining. It can happen," he then snapped his fingers, "just like that." His own thoughts drifted to Liana, the poetess who captured his heart in only a night. Yes, he knew what it was like to love instantly.

Siroc did not stop pacing; he could feel his heart pounding in his head now. "This does not make sense," he said, his brows creasing. He felt Ramon grab him roughly and fore him to stop.

"That is the point, Siroc," Ramon said. "Love does not make sense. It can't. It is not rational, it is not based off of reason." His face was void of his characteristic innocent smile. He looked at Siroc with a seriousness that was quite unlike him. But he needed to be honest with Siroc; this was not a matter to be foolish about. How could one explain something like this to another who had always based his life on fact and reason? Siroc looked confused and baffled. He was fighting an inner  
battle, and he did not know which side he stood on.

"There is not much you can do with something like this," he continued.

"There is something I can do," Siroc said. Jacqueline will never be  
his, of this he was certain. That was a truth that didn't need to be analyzed. She belonged to d'Artagnan. He would never betray his friend, his brother in arms. He held too much respect and love for d'Artagnan to break the bond and the friendship he had with him.

"What are you going to do?" Ramon asked, not quite sure if he wanted to hear the answer or not. "I'm going to bury it."

"That is all," Duval said, excusing Jacque and d'Artagnan. They both nodded and turned to leave. "Oh um... Laponte?"

Jacque faced Duval once more, "Sir?" she asked.

"About your father... I'm sorry," Duval said, folding his hands on his desk. "If you would like to take a few days off to console, then you may." He studied Jacque closely. He honestly didn't think that Jacque was a man to lose his head, but he had seen Jacque's window. The bandage on his right hand was proof enough that Duval's assumptions proved true. 

Duval reminded himself that the man's father had just passed, but he forgot that Laponte was young and inexperienced. Perhaps, the private did need some time to himself.  
Jacque gave d'Artagnan a strange look before she cleared her throat.

"Um... thank you sir, but I believe I can manage for now." She quickly gave a curt bow and left the room with d'Artagnan not far behind her.

When they were clear of any onlookers, she lightly smacked his shoulder. "You told him about my father?" she said in a harsh whisper.

He gave her that classic what-could-l-have-done shrug. "You were hiding in Siroc's lab as Jacqueline. It was the only story that we could have given him and besides, it was partly true." He showed her a warm smile, but that was all that he could give her because a few of the younger musketeers came barging into the common room.

"The captain should be informed immediately," said one private. "Even if it is under the Cardinal's orders." He ushered the other two privates into the hall that led to Duval's quarters.  
D'Artagnan and Jacque could not help but be curious. D'Artagnan tapped the young man on the shoulder. "Carl, what seems to be so urgent?" he asked.

Carl immediately corrected his posture when he faced his role model, the man he wanted to be like. It was rare that he was in the same room as the greatest fencer he had ever seen. He admired d'Artagnan since the moment he laid eyes on him, and since has wished to follow in his steps.

"Sir, the cardinal issued a ransacking of a small farmhouse not far  
from here."

D'Artagnan knew that Jacque's face had paled; he didn't need to see it, he felt it. Carl continued, "Supposedly, it belongs to the wanted criminal, Jacqueline Roget. The Cardinal bought the land that the farmhouse resides on, and his men are there as we speak running the farm to the ground. Even the bodies that are buried in the soil are to be dug up..."

Jacque sprinted out of the room before another word was said."Jacque!" d'Artagnan yelled. He urged Carl to tell Duval about the new situation and took off in a run to catch Jacque. 'My God, she's a fast runner,' he thought looking at Jacque's backside the whole time. He realized that she was running to the stables, and he wouldn't have caught up to her if she didn't stop for a moment to mount her white mare. He grabbed her leg roughly, trying to force her back to the ground.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked as he also grabbed the reigns and kept them from her grasp.

"Let go, d'Artagnan," Jacque snarled. "My father... my mother... I don't -care- if they take the farm and the house, but my parents..." she began to feel the tears coming. All her parents had ever done was give her and Gerard the love and support that any child needed and wanted. They were innocent, and they did not deserve this! She will not allow Mazarin to disturb their peace.

"No, I won't," he said, yanking the horse back into the stable. The white mare jerked his head back in refusal, but d'Artagnan pulled even harder. "You'll get yourself killed if they find you!"

Suddenly, he received a sharp blow to his chest; Jacque had kicked him to free herself from his grip. He felt himself collide with a stack of hay, then he fell on his side.

Jacque pulled on the reigns, facing the mare to the entrance of the stable. "I'm sorry," she said and rode off.

"Jacque!" screamed d'Artagnan as he got to his feet. 'dn!' he thought as he saw his love ride away from him. He had to stop her, even if it killed him to do so. He could not chase after her just yet; he had to take care of Jacque Laponte first. He was helpless the first time around when he lost her, but now he knew where she would be and what she planned to do. He had to act fast or else he would lose her permanently.

Suddenly, Siroc and Ramon came running around the stable entrance. They both stopped short when they saw Jacque in the distance, riding the white mare unsaddled.

"D'Artagnan!" Ramon cried, when he found his friend covered in hay.

"What happened? We heard you screaming like a madman. Where is Jacqueline going?" He had seen Jacque ride before, and it was just short of perfectly graceful. But now, she rode as if a demon were chasing her.

D'Artagnan wasted no time, and hurriedly walked out of the stable and headed back into headquarters. Siroc and Ramon didn't know what he was thinking, but they decided to follow him.

They stopped when he motioned for them to do so, and he entered Captain Duval's office. "Sir?" d'Artagnan said when he opened the door.

"What is it, d'Artagnan?" Duval asked, not lifting his eyes from the scroll of parchment he was writing on. The calligraphy had to be perfect on this order.

"Private Laponte has asked that he be given a few days off to arrange for his father's burial," d'Artagnan said. He kept his hands behind his back in respect for being in his captain's presence, but his mind was unfocused and distracted. 'Please, let this work,' he thought. 'Hurry up Duval... give me the answer. Jacqueline could be dead by the time...'

"He may," Duval said and before he could lift his head, d'Artagnan muttered a quiet "thank you" and left his office. The captain just shrugged his shoulders and returned to his work, wondering briefly what kind of woman d'Artagnan kept waiting on him this time. The boy loved women; anyone knew that. 'I wonder what will happen when he finds one worth risking his life for,' Duval thought, but then his mind drifted to the order of supplies that he needed.

D'Artagnan almost ran into Siroc and Ramon because he forgot that they were left standing outside the captain's quarters. "Jacque is in trouble," he said a low voice. He could not afford for anyone to overhear him. "We have to leave now!"

"Where is she?" Siroc asked, ignoring the raging emotion that was fighting its way back into his heart. He tried to keep his eyes focused on d'Artagnan but found that it was difficult to even look at his friend now. Distractedly, he looked either to Ramon or to the floor.

"The Roget farmhouse," d'Artagnan answered, beginning to walk back to his room. "Where her father was killed?" Ramon asked.

"Right," was all d'Artagnan said. For the second time, he left Siroc and Ramon standing outside while he meddled with what ever business he had to take care of. He closed his door and quickly found a piece of parchment and a quill. He scribbled down a short message, but its words were precious and could save the life of the only woman he loved. He just hoped that its recipient was willing enough to help him in his time of need. He quickly signed his name and sealed it with a prayer that was silently said to God. When he opened his door again, he handed the  
letter to Ramon.

"Make sure that leaves today, and that it is given to the fastest messenger we have and that he is on the fastest ship we have," he said. 

"Please." His eyes were pleading for life, but it was not his own. He begged Ramon that this would be done for Jacqueline's sake.

"It is done, my friend," Ramon said. He would do anything that d'Artagnan asked of him, and he could say the same for Siroc. Jacque was also like a brother to him, but now that he recently found out that Jacque was a woman, it made him even more protective. If d'Artagnan believed there was a sliver of hope left for Jacque, he would be dned if he didn't believe in it as well. He pocketed the letter and ran out of headquarters.

D'Artagnan turned to Siroc, letting out a heavy sigh. "I can't lose her, Siroc. We have to find her," he said. He placed a hand on the wall next to him to support his tired body and weary mind. This battle has been nonstop for two whole days now, and it was wearing into him.

Siroc didn't know how to feel, but he promised to himself that he would cut off the feelings he held for Jacqueline. This was not about him at all, and he knew that. This was about Jacqueline. "I know," he said, but then lightly punched him in the shoulder. "So let's find her."

D'Artagnan looked up at him and smiled, grateful for the friends that he had made in his life. "Let's go."


	9. Battle Between Friends

Battle Between Friends

"How do you know where she is?" Siroc yelled to d'Artagnan as he rode along side him. They had been riding for nearly three hours, traveling upriver. They drove their horses to their maximum speed, not allowing any slack or rest for the animals.

They had just passed by the spot where Siroc and Ramon found their friends six months ago.Jacque was injured, having been shot by a bandit to save Louis' life. Even though the moment had passed long ago, Siroc still felt the worry build up inside of him when he thought back to that day. 'What a brave woman,' he thought. Without any regard for her own safety, she risked her own life for her king. Not many men would do that. D'Artagnan's voice broke into his thoughts.

"We spent the night at her farmhouse when I pulled her from the river," d'Artagnan yelled back. He yelled another "hya!" to drive his horse even faster. The sped on as if running from an army of the Cardinal's men.

Large clouds of dust kicked up from the horses' hooves, and with each step a loud thunderous sound echoed throughout the silent path. Both d'Artagnan and Siroc greeted the wind whipping passed their faces as it cooled them and made them feel refreshed and anew.

'At the Roget farmhouse?' Siroc thought to himself. "You said that a civilian took you in," Siroc said loudly. He hated the feeling of jealousy overcoming his senses, but he managed to push it out. He shook himself mentally, This isn't like you Siroc. Get your thoughts together!'

D'Artagnan let out a nervous laugh. "Well, at the time, you and Ramon didn't know about Jacqueline. It wasn't my secret to tell after all. We're almost there!" D'Artagnan's face was lit with hope, but deep down he had a fear that they may be too late.

He tried to push it back, to not even acknowledge its presence, but for some reason it kept resurfacing. He had seen her near death before, six months ago. He could remember every second when the fear gripped his heart, and he felt that she would die in his arms. He would not let that happen again. He knew then that he longed to see her eyes open, and he would be the one that she would see.

They slowed their pace as they neared a path that led further into the forest. D'Artagnan pulled on the reigns bringing his horse to a halt.

"What do you think?" he asked Siroc. His eyes scanned over the forest as a whole, and the only thing that gave his instincts a fright was that it was too quiet. Not even the chirping from the birds that resided in the trees that surrounded them could be heard. It seemed as though death had lay its hand upon the forest itself.

Siroc rode next to d'Artagnan, pulling back on the reins to stop next to him. "I don't know... how much further?" he asked, but a loud snort cut off d'Artagnan's answer. The two men had to keep themselves from falling off their horses when Jacque's white mare shot out into the clearing, nearly running right into them. It whinnied loudly as it ran from them down the dirt road where they had come from.

"Whoa!" d'Artagnan commanded as he calmed his horse. "That worries me," d'Artagnan said watching Jacque's mare dart away. There it was again. That fear that was beginning to suffocate him earlier. He felt his heart beat a bit more harshly against his chest, but it was times like these that his musketeer training would make itself evident.

"Panicked and without a rider," Siroc agreed. That was never a good sign to see from a combatant horse. He was never a man of faith, but he prayed to God with all his heart. He wanted to see Jacqueline; he wanted to see her alive.Both men dismounted, drawing their rapiers and ready to fight to the death. They looked to one another and nodded, then proceeded in taking the path that led to the Roget farmhouse. They moved quickly but quietly, making their footfalls as silent as possible.

D'Artagnan was reminded of a drill that Duval had put them through his second year in training. The exercise was done in small groups of four. One man was required to sneak around the other three that were guarding different areas of the garrison. At first, d'Artagnan thought it was the most idiotic drill he had ever been put through, but now he was thanking God for the man who was his captain.

When they neared the farmhouse, d'Artagnan held up his hand to Siroc indicating that they should stop. He pointed to their left, and their eyes fell upon a discarded musketeer uniform. The overcoat, the undershirt, pants, and boots were gathered in a small bundle and left beside a tree. The only thing that was missing was the rapier.

"Jacqueline," d'Artagnan whispered, and the worst image flashed in his mind. He saw Jacqueline wounded, left to die and all alone. He knelt down and grabbed a handful of the coat, but a shout broke through the silence of the forest.

"You set this up?" cried Jacqueline's voice. The next thing they heard was metal striking against metal. Jacqueline had engaged in a sword fight, and it sounded like a savage one. "You're nothing but cowards!"

Siroc was already gone when d'Artagnan got back to his feet. They moved faster than before, dodging trees and swatting away branches. They stopped once more when the Roget house was fully in view, but more importantly so was Jacqueline and her captors.

Jacqueline fought off four men at a time, all of them dressed in the uniform of the Cardinal. She dodged, parried, and fended them off as best as she could. Her footwork became messy because of her dress, and she could feel tiny stones and twigs stabbing into her bare feet. She managed to slice one of the men on his left arm and leave a nasty gash on the cheek of another.

Her energy was fueled by the rage she felt for the Cardinal. 'Idiot!' she scolded herself. 'How could you fall for this?' She blocked yet another blow that was aimed for her side, and she turned into the man knocking him in the temple with her elbow. Though she was in mortal danger and she could very well die this day, her thoughts were on d'Artagnan. She did not care about her own well being; she only wished she could have told d'Artagnan once more of her love for him.

"You witch!" yelled the man as he wiped away the blood that trickled down his face. He charged for her with newly found vengeance. With a powerful swing, he caught her off balance, and he smiled as she faltered in her steps.

"Jacque..." d'Artagnan started, but she was overpowered. The worst thing that could ever happen to a musketeer in a life or death situation... no. The worst thing that could happen to a man watching his love about to be taken away happened to d'Artagnan. He froze. All of the horrid images that flashed before his mind's eyes, all of the assumptions and gripping fear he felt came true. The mere shock kept his feet unmoving. Jacqueline's rapier was knocked from her grasp, and she was shoved to the ground. Immediately, ropes wrapped around her wrists, but she would not give up. She kicked at them and bit the hand that tried to gag her.

She was rewarded with a sharp smack to her face that knocked her unconscious. Before she lost control of her consciousness, the final thought in the back of her mind was she only wished d'Artagnan could forgive her. But she felt that the next time they would meet would be in heaven, and then perhaps she could ask him.

"The Cardinal will be happy to hear this," said the man who bound Jacqueline's hands. He felt his own blood trickle down his cheek and drip from his chin. He silently wished that the Cardinal didn't want the woman alive. He would thoroughly enjoy torturing her for making a fool of him. "Stupid fool, believing in such a rumor. We meet Captain Bernard a league west of here."

D'Artagnan prepared to run to her, but Siroc held him back. Siroc's arm wrapped around his chest, and his hands clasped together holding d'Artagnan in place. D'Artagnan glared at Siroc while trying to break free of him; he didn't know if he was full of rage because his friend was holding him back or full of confusion for the sudden act.

He looked back to see Jacqueline roughly thrown on top of a horse, and the men mounted their own horses to escort the captured criminal. "I would much rather drag her all the way there, but the Cardinal demanded that she remain unharmed," spat the man who had bound Jacqueline earlier. "Let's go." They rode off with their prisoner away from the two unseen musketeers.

Siroc felt his heart break bit by bit as the distance between him and Jacqueline grew. He wanted more than anything to run out and save her, but he would not let his emotions best him. D'Artagnan was thinking with his heart, not with his head. That made the situation even worse at this point. When Siroc was distracted by Jacqueline's capture, d'Artagnan managed to break free of his grasp. Siroc could feel himself being shoved into the bark of a tree.

"Why!?" d'Artagnan screamed at him. "Why did you not let me go to her?" He decided that the feeling he felt before was that of fury. He turned to look in the direction that the four men had disappeared to. "I could have saved her, Siroc," he said, looking back to the man who had betrayed him.

"You could have saved Jacqueline, but you would be helping a wanted criminal. You would have hurt not only yourself, but her as well," Siroc said. He hated every word that escaped from his lips, but it was the truth. If the Cardinal received word that the musketeers were behind the escape of Jacqueline Roget, he would not waste the chance to use that against them. Louis would likely be forced to disband the musketeers and  
Mazarin would be unopposed.

D'Artagnan shook his head, feeling his nerves slowly breaking down. He glared at Siroc with as much hate as he held for father when he was younger and didn't understand his father's position in France. His blood boiled in his veins, and his breathing became more ragged. His training and the discipline he had endured over these years were instantly forgotten. Forget about playing along the rules of engagement; he wanted to tear Siroc apart.

"How could you? How could you do that to me? To Jacqueline!" his voice boomed loudly in the forest. He clenched his hands into fists, wanting the blood of the men who captured his Jacqueline. But he also wanted revenge on the man he once called his friend. "You may not care for her at all-" d'Artagnan said, but he was silenced as Siroc punched him fiercely in the jaw.

"Don't you DARE tell me I don't care for her!" Siroc yelled at him. He couldn't help himself. When he heard d'Artagnan begin that statement, he lost control. Something in him snapped, and there was no turning back. He did the most dangerous thing he had ever done in his life. He let his feelings control his body.

D'Artagnan had no idea how he felt; how much worry he felt for Jacqueline, how much love he had for her. But now, all he felt was the anger that ate away at his defenses.

D'Artagnan got to his feet in a fit of rage and charged for Siroc, knocking him to the ground. The two of them rolled on top of each other, occasionally grabbing a handful of the other's shirt and throwing a sloppy punch. Siroc kicked d'Artagnan away from him, and got to his feet. Bits and pieces of leaves and twigs entangled in his hair, and d'Artagnan had managed to rip one of his sleeves.

D'Artagnan's hair had come loose, and his lip was swollen from the blow that Siroc had dealt him moments before. He wiped the small drop of blood that blotted his lower lip. "What is going on in that head of yours!? For the love of Mary!" d'Artagnan hissed at him. It wasn't like Siroc to lose his temper with him; actually, Siroc hardly ever lost his head. But this wasn't the time to ponder and question his behavior. D'Artagnan was full of untamed fury because of the man in front of him. He could feel his heart pounding in his head, and his hands closed together once more. He couldn't wait till his fist connected with Siroc's jaw. He may never see Jacqueline again, and it was because of Siroc, the traitor. He charged for him again, and the two men squared off.

Siroc grabbed d'Artagnan's arm to keep him from punching his stomach or face. "What is going on in MY head?" he asked, yelling at d'Artagnan, fueled with all the aggression he felt these past two days. The wrestled and grappled with one another for a few more seconds before Siroc shouted at him again. "You keep losing yours!" He kicked d'Artagnan's feet from under him, but as d'Artagnan lost his balance, he pulled Siroc with him. Siroc rolled away freely, and d'Artagnan was now in a crouching position.

"If I had gone to save her, then it would have been only me! l would have been the one to take the fall, not you or Ramon!" d'Artagnan yelled. His face was now a dark shade of red, and his breaths came in short gasps. Though he had years and years of friendship with the two men, he would have given it up in a second to save Jacqueline. She mattered more to him than anything that he thought he held dear. "Why did you stop  
me!?" he screamed.

"Because I love her!" Siroc yelled back, but closed his mouth as soon as the confession came out.


	10. Small Bit of Hope

Small Bit of Hope

Ramon paced back and forth between the hallways of musketeer headquarters. His left arm was wrapped around his waist and his right never left his face. He had been worried and felt panicked when d'Artagnan and Siroc had not returned. He did as he was asked, rather pleaded to do, by d'Artagnan and sent the letter off on the fastest ship they had. It had taken an hour, but the task was accomplished. When Ramon returned, his comrades were nowhere to be found, and worse yet... neither was Jacque.

The sun had set long ago, but Ramon knew he would not find sleep. Captain Duval had expressed his concern earlier on in the afternoon about d'Artagnan and Siroc's whereabouts, but Ramon covered for them. He told Duval that they mentioned Carl saying something about a citizen's residence being vandalized, but Ramon did not mention that it was the Roget farmhouse, and he did not mention that it was the Cardinal who was behind the brutality.

Ramon sighed, looking out into the distance towards the streets of Paris. As much as he could feel the worry tugging at his heart, his eyes were reluctantly closing. The strain of the past few days were beginning to show in his appearance and posture. 'One more round,' Ramon thought to himself. He had continuously searched the musketeer grounds hoping to spot d'Artagnan or Siroc, but he had no luck in finding them. He forced himself to go around one more time before he decided to go to his room and pass out on his bed.

His feet knew the routine already. He treaded through the training grounds, making his way to the stables. He weaved in and out of the outskirts of the garrison, his feet no longer making distinct steps but long dragging shifts of weight. He rounded a corner when a body suddenly pushed past him, nearly knocking him back into the wall.

Ramon managed to catch sight of a dark ponytail or what was left of it. The tiny band that usually held all of d'Artagnan's hair now only hung from a few strands. Some of his hair had been matted down on the side of his face by what looked like sweat and... blood.

"D'Artagnan?" Ramon called out. But the body ignored him and disappeared into the musketeers' private quarters. Shortly afterwards, Ramon heard the booming sound of a door slamming shut. It would be a miracle if Duval and the others did not wake after hearing that.

Ramon rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what it was he just witnessed. D'Aragnan looked... enraged. He had never seen that look at d'Artagnan's face before. Ramon jumped slightly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Siroc's bloodied and bruised face.

"What the hell?" Ramon had to blink several times to make certain that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. "Siroc? What happened to you, compadre?" His training reflexes kicked in when he saw Siroc leaning forward, almost as if he were going to fall to his knees. Ramon held his friend up, shifting most of the inventor's weight to his own shoulder.

Siroc used his free hand to wipe the small amount of blood away that was forming in the corner of his mouth. "He found out." He welcomed the help that Ramon provided for him. He did not think that he could have found his bed on his own. The fight that that he had with d'Artagnan had drained all of his energy, and after his confession...

He ran his tongue over the corner of his lip. When he had said that he loved Jacqueline, d'Artagnan snapped. Siroc thought that d'Artagnan would kill him, and that he would have to fight for his life. But that did not happen, at least not exactly like that.

D'Artagnan merely stared at him for a moment, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. It wasn't a look of betrayal that he saw in d'Artagnan's eyes... it was fear. But it quickly faded, and was replaced with an expression of rage. He walked up to Siroc, grabbed his shirt, and punched him in the jaw with as much strength as he had in his body.

Siroc expected that reaction the moment he expressed his feelings for Jacqueline, and he let himself receive the punishment. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, and d'Artagnan was nowhere in sight. He was mildly surprised that a rapier was not protruding from his chest.

D'Artagnan most likely tried to calm himself, and the only way he could was to just leave Siroc where he lay.When he got back to his horse, he noticed that d'Artagnan's was gone as well. Siroc figured that d'Artagnan would head back to Paris, to headquarters. What did surprise him was that he caught up to d'Artagnan after a half an hour of riding. Siroc was not sure if he should ride next to d'Artagnan or keep his distance. He didn't feel like receiving another blow to his jaw, so he kept back a few paces from his friend.

"Comrade?" Ramon's voice shattered the memory that Siroc was reliving.

"What happened? Where is Jacqueline?" Somehow Ramon managed to make it to Siroc's room without waking up the others. He was practically carrying his friend, and the only sounds that he heard for a while were Siroc's feet dragging on the floor.

Siroc kept his mouth tight, trying not to open the wound on his lip further. "She was captured... Mazarin has her now..." he grimaced. If he didn't receive the beatings he did from d'Artagnan, he would have given them to himself. She was so close to them! And yet, they were powerless to do anything.

For years he had given his life to protect Louis, to protect France. It was a honor to do so, and it was a grand status to hold, but now it felt so insignificant. Suddenly, everything that he had done in his years of being a musketeer felt empty... almost laughable. How could he put so much effort into a young boy who rarely acknowledged him, into a country that didn't know of his existence, over a woman, a friend, who loved him dearly though she could never be his? She offered more to him in these past few months than Louis or France ever did his entire life.

Siroc felt himself being pushed onto his bed, and he gratefully accepted the soft texture against his body. He was drained physically and mentally, and it was only the fact of getting Jacqueline back that kept him conscious on the ride back from the farmhouse. His nerves jumped whenever he drew in a breath, and his head was forming a pounding headache.

"Siroc," he heard Ramon start. "If Mazarin now has Jacqueline in captivity, how will we get her out? It is almost impossible." Ramon hated to say it, but it was true. Next to the king, Mazarin held an impressive amount of power. To break out a fugitive while she was in Mazarin's hold was hardly possible. They were lucky to break Gerard from his imprisonment when they did.

"We will get her," Siroc said, feeling sleep take control of his body. "If I have to give my life... I will get her..." his words became slurred, and his eyes closed.

D'Artagnan stared at the ceiling in his room, unable to break out of the horrid scene he witnessed hours ago. Jacqueline had slipped through his fingers, and she was now held captive under the man she had spent so much time avoiding. It was only a matter of time before Louis would find out that Jacque Lepont was Jacqueline Roget. And it was all his fault! He promised her that nothing would ever happen to her, and yet where was she now? He was a failure; he had failed the one person he loved  
with all his heart.

D'Artagnan turned in his bed, burying his face in his pillow. He felt the tears sting his eyes, wishing that it was Jacqueline he was holding rather than a soft mass of feathers that he slept on. He heard his door open, but he didn't have to look to see who entered his room without permission. "Go away Ramon."

"No," came the short answer. Ramon closed the door behind him and walked to the edge of the bed where d'Artagnan's head lay. "Siroc cannot help the way he feels, d'Artagnan." He hardly ever involved himself in others' affairs, but this one was special. He had to see d'Artagnan and Siroc make amends; Jacqueline's life was depending on it.

"I know," d'Artagnan said, his voice was muffled in the pillow. "I just... lost it." And he knew it. He had hit Siroc out of fear, not anger. He felt fear of losing Jacqueline to Siroc, and he reacted in the only way he knew. He finally had Jacqueline after wanting her for so long, and it was never a fear of losing her to a sword that he held... it was losing her to another man. But after what he had done, he felt foolish and stupid. He regretted everything that he had done to Siroc, even punching him when Siroc said he loved Jacqueline as well.

His friend had never betrayed him, and Siroc showed no signs of starting. D'Artagnan, Ramon, and Siroc had fought side by side countless times in their years of friendship. It just now occurred how completely opposite his two friends were. Ramon was quite emotional, being a passionate poet. But Siroc was quiet, and he isolated himself from the others all the time.

He shut himself up in that small lab of his, and at times he would not come out for a few days. This was the first time that d'Artagnan had ever seen Siroc express his true feelings. And it was the strongest feeling that a human was capable of. 'Jacqueline -is- a special woman,' d'Artagnan thought. 'Only she could have broken down Siroc's guard without even trying.'

Ramon still stood next to the bed, making no movement to sit or leave the room. "He is not a threat to you, d'Artagnan. Si, he loves her, but he would never take her from you. And this is hardly a time to be bickering about who loves her more. We should be thinking of a way to help her." Now that he got a good look at d'Artagnan, he shuddered picturing the fight that his two friends had gone through. He thought Siroc looked bad...D'Artagnan barely had his shirt left.

D'Artagnan finally sat up and looked at Ramon. The Spaniard was right; Siroc was still his friend and always will be. Jacqueline needed the three of them, and she relied on their friendship to keep them together.

His eyes were full of determination. There was only thing that they could do. "We need one week, Ramon. We must delay the execution of Jacqueline Roget for one whole week. Otherwise, all hope is lost."


	11. Musketeers No More

Musketeers No More

Jacqueline woke up to a splitting headache. The only thing she knew was that she was lying on a hard stone floor, and a door slamming closed had woken her. She tried to push herself up, but her arms could not support her. She fell to her side, and her body racked with pain, especially the side of her face. She managed to touch her jaw line, gently caressing bruised skin.  
The memories began flooding back to her. She was caught. She was a dead woman.

D'Artagnan. She will never again see her bloved d'Artagnan. She never really thought she would miss that thingyy smile, those arrogant eyes... his loving heart. Here she was without a weapon, without any means of fighting to the death. This was not the way she wanted to die. She wanted to fight with every part of her being, not locked up and helpless in a room of solitude.

"Pleasant dreams?" said a cool voice from the corner of the cell.

Jacqueline froze. The first time she had heard that voice, the first day she had ever come into contact with its owner, she had lost her father. Since then she had desired revenge against that man, seeking to take his life in return for her father's. Her throat felt scratchy and dry, but she did not want to seem weak in front of him. No, she had to pull herself together. "Cardinal," she said, addressing him. Once more she forced herself up, and despite her muscles screaming at her, and her head spinning in circles, she propped herself on her elbows and pushed her body back to lean against the cold cell wall.

"Jacqueline Roget," Mazarin stated. He paced back and forth throughout the entire width of the damp confinement keeping his hands folded in front of him. He could feel the glare, the hatred that was directed at him. "Surely, you are not still angry about that day. I nearly forgotten about that incident," he said, and turned to look at her. Sure enough, her almond eyes looked as though they wanted to burn through his body.

Jacqueline felt disoriented, and she couldn't see clearly. "How long have I been here?" she asked. The cell she was in was dark and bleak. There was only a door and a small window. It didn't look like the regular cells that were in the castle dungeons. It unnerved her that she was in the Cardinal's possession, and she had no idea where she actually was. It could very well be that no one besides Mazarin knew where this cell was.

"You have been here for two days now, Mademoiselle Roget," Mazarin continued. "The treatment you had undergone during your capture could have been well avoided if you only complied with the requests of my men."

His red robes made him stand out even more in the cell. Many of France's citizens look upon those robes and see a man symbolizing life and prosperity for their country, but Jacqueline only saw it as a mark of a murderer, a man wrapped in a robe that was stained by innocent blood. She decided that red was a fitting color for Mazarin and his men.

Jacqueline wanted more than anything to rip out Mazarin's heart, but she had neither a weapon nor the strength to do so. "What do you want with me? You've kept me alive for far longer than anyone would have thought. You don't wish to send the "murderer" of your captain to the gallows?" she spat. As she was speaking, Mazarin opened the door of the cell to let himself out.

"I merely wanted to see if you had awoken, Roget," he said, keeping his back to her. "In time, you will see." One of his guards closed the door behind him, leaving Jacqueline in total darkness.

"So you're saying that Jacqueline Roget and Jacque Lepont are one in the same?"

D'Artagnan, Siroc, and Ramon usually hated being confronted by the man in such a way, but today was different. Today, they were going to stand their ground whether their "father" would support them or not.

"Yes sir," said d'Artagnan. He looked straight into Duval's eyes, not backing down. He had told Duval everything that happened since day one of Jacque Lepont's appearance in headquarters.

Duval sat at his desk, bewildered, but not entirely surprised. He sat there in silence for a moment, pondering this new information. Siroc bravely stepped forward unable to take the awkward silence much longer.

"Sir, we have no intention of letting Jacqueline stay under the hold the Cardinal." He handed Duval a scroll of parchment. "Our actions from this day forward might dishonor everything we have done..." he started, but found that he didn't know how to finish the statement.

Ramon stepped up handing Duval parchment as well. "... as musketeers," he finished. "Sir, as of today, we are resigning from the musketeers. We will not let any harm come to you or to our comrades. We have decided to separate ourselves, so that we may be free from any hold that the laws may have on us." He stepped back in line directly side by side with Siroc.

D'Artagnan was the last to turn in his forms. He never thought that he would one day turn his back on the musketeers. This family, these men were like a legacy. But now he found something even more worthy to fight for. "Captain, we thought long and hard about this decision, and we are staying by it. We are grateful for everything that you have done..."

"You make sure that she is safe and alive," said Duval, stunning all three men. Clearly, that wasn't the response that they predicted. He stood and walked around the desk, looking at the fine men that he had the pleasure of raising and training. "I don't care if she was a woman, she was a musketeer and a dn fine one at that. Plus... she helped save my boy." Duval remember how horrifying that day was when he thought he had lost Andre. He looked at them with unwavering eyes. They were full of determination, and he normally wore this expression when he the most serious. "You three listen to me."

"Sir," they said in unison.

"Rumor has it that there are sacrifices being performed every full moon. There has been no proof, and no evidence of such a thing being true, but I would not put it past the Cardinal and his followers. You bring her back safe, you hear me?" Duval said, eyeing the three men. Deep down in his heart he did not want them to leave, but they already made their decision. Nothing was going to change that. But he could also see why they would sacrifice so much in order to save one friend. He only taught them drills, basics, maneuvers, and skill. To be taught to risk one's life for another... that took real spirit.

The three men saluted their captain, but he again surprised them once more when he wrapped his arms around all three of them. "Be careful... that's my final order," Duval said, and he quickly turned around and walk toward the back the of the room.

"Until next time captain," d'Artagnan said. He never thought he would ever leave the musketeers. He thought he would not only live as a musketeer for years to come, but to die a musketeer as well. He turned his back to Duval and left the office while Ramon and Siroc did the same.

Duval heard the door close behind them, and he let out a shaky breath. 'God be with you boys,' he said in a small prayer.

The streets of Paris blossomed with life as shops began opening to welcome wealthy customers. Produce merchants pulled out their carts full of vegetables and fruit, and other vendors set tables and such for materials or jewelry.

"The next full moon is tomorrow night," Ramon said.

"We have until then to figure out where Jacqueline is," Siroc followed. He looked to d'Artagnan. Things hadnot entirely cleared up between them, but they agreed that finding Jacqueline was more important than them. They -had- to work together; it was the only way to find her.

"We'll start now," d'Artagnan said, looking back to Siroc. He didn't hate Siroc; he didn't think he ever could. The man had no intention of stealing Jacqueline from him; he was only guilty of loving her. For the first time in days, d'Artagnan had shown him a sign of friendship. He lightly punched him the shoulder. "What do you say? Start in town and work our way out?"

Siroc grimaced a bit, feeling d'Artagnan hit a bruise in his shoulder, but he gave a small smile. "Sounds good. Let's go," he said. The moment he said "go" Ramon wrapped him and d'Artagnan in a fierce hug.

"I have been waiting for two whole days for you two to make up!" he laughed. It was the only relief all of them had felt in a while. "But I think I have a better idea than just looking around all over town for hours on end."

"And what would that be?" d'Artagnan asked mildly intrigued.

"Remember the young beauty that promised an evening to me days ago?" Ramon sighed. He had that reaction every time he thought of his brunette love.

Siroc lifted an eyebrow and shook his head. "Ramon this is hardly a time to be daydreaming about your companion victories. We have to get Jacqueline out of the Cardinal's..." but Ramon stuck up a finger in the air as if a bright idea had hit him.

"That's it, mi compadre!" Ramon said with a dashing smile. "The Cardinal's men happen to take quite a fancy to her and the other women that serve in Cafe Nouveau. I can ask her and her friends for a little favor." He waited to see if d'Artagnan and Siroc could figure where he was going with his little idea.

"I'm not quite following you," d'Artagnan admitted. "I myself am lost, Ramon," Siroc followed.

Ramon's face lit up even more. "I can ask her to slip a little more wine to the Cardinal's men. Get them talking. If I tell her what I need to know, I am sure that she will be able to find out where Jacqueline is being held. We just have to pray that they -do- know." He waited again for his friends' responses.

D'Artagnan thought about it for a moment, and looked to Ramon with a confident look in his eyes. "You know, that might actually work. How about we take a little trip to Cafe Nouveau?"

Siroc nodded his approval, but before they began walking he stopped Ramon. "But we're not going there to eat, Ramon." His Spanish friend was just famous for downing insane amounts of food into his stomach.

Ramon held up his hands defensively. "I know, I know," he said. "I will just find Gabrielle, and ask her the favor. Don't worry, she will not turn me down eh," he assured both of his friends.


	12. Separation

Separation 

"...so I tell him, 'drop to your knees and lick my boots clean, for you have insulted me which means you have insulted the Cardinal himself!' And what does the simpleton do? He licked my boots like a scared little dog!" howled Captain Bernard. His men brought their glasses together once again, and the their table roared with laughter. They managed to drive most of Cafe Nouveau's customers out due to their lack of manners.  
They belched loudly, and grabbed at anything in a dress.

"Peasants, that's all that they are good for," laughed one of Bernard's men. His cheeks were beginning to redden, and the wine was heavy on his breath. He hiccupped and took another swig of wine. He back his chair up a foot or two and swung his legs in front so that his feet landed loudly on the table. "Gabrielle! Another!" The drunken man rose his glass  
high desiring for it to be filled again and again.

Gabrielle swayed around the table, making sure that their drinks were always full. She made sure that she looked her absolute best, giving them lustful eyes whenever one of them caught her gaze. Inside however, she wanted to break a bottle over every one of their heads, but Ramon had asked her the favor of gaining information. He assured her that none of the Cardinal's men would harass her and her friends ever again. How could she refuse? Especially since he recited a ten minute poem that he had written just for her down on bended knee.

"Another drink, handsome?" she said in a sweet voice. She batted her eyelashes at Captain Bernard closing in on his personal space, but he didn't mind at all.

"Yes, another!" Bernard demanded. Gabrielle's friends were called to the table, and they obediently filled their glasses. They too, encouraged the men, and giggled more than usual. They paid special attention to this specific group as any one of them could have been "picked" to share a secret or two with the Cardina's men. The women of Cafe Nouveau were ecstaic to hear that this would be the last time that they would have to deal with the crimson pigs, so they didn't mind going through with Ramon's plan. When Gabrielle went to fill Bernard's glass, he grabbed her and pulled her to his lap.

She laughed, wrapping an arm around his neck, but her hand itched to smack him across his face. She glanced over to the other side of the Cafe to find Ramon being held back by Siroc and d'Artagnan. Both men had their arms wrapped around Ramon's, and they forced him back into his chair. They managed to calm him, and her poetic musketeer reluctantly sat back down into his chair. She gave him a longing gaze, but she had to focus on her task. Her attention returned to the Captain and his men.

"Ramon, this was your idea. Don't get angry just because it's going according to how you wanted it to," d'Artagnan said, keeping his hand on Ramon's arm. He had to make sure that the man didn't blow their cover.

He had to admit himself that he was losing patience. It was only a few more hours before the moon was at its highest point, and the progress with Bernard was going slow.

Ramon was furious. He didn't think that seeing Gabrielle being in another man's arms would affect him, but he was wrong. It was like seeing the only candle in a far off distance being overcome by a vast darkness, and he could nothing to save it. "I know," Ramon said through gritted teeth. "I just wish they would confess their knowledge now, so she doesn't have to go through anymore." He didn't have his rapier anymore, but that didn't stop him from fantasiazing about running it through those  
men like wild boar.

"This is their fourth round," Siroc said, observing the scene before him. "If they do know anything about Jacqueline, they will speak up soon." He knew how Ramon felt, but he wanted to save a different woman. All three of them had half the mind to take out all of the men and beat the information out of them, but that would only make things worse.

So far, they remained undetected by the Cardinal's guard. Since they resigned from the musketeers, they purchased regular common clothing. It was strange at first for them, wearing nothing but simple shirts and pants with a plain pair of boots. D'Artagnan often found his hand lingering to his left side in search of his rapier, but it would not there.

Sometimes they shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, noticing the lack of weight on their shoulders due to the absence of their blue uniform coats. It would take them a while before they could adjust to their new styles. To make the final touch, they also purchased wide brimmed hats to shield their identity from any of the Cardinal's followers. They only resigned two hours ago, so word had yet to reach the king and the Cardinal. The more time they had, the better.

Ramon perked up a bit when he saw Bernard whispering something in Gabrielle's ear. "I think we have something," he said, and both Siroc and d'Artagnan leaned in staring in Gabrielle's direction.

D'Artagnan's stomach dropped when he saw Bernard do some type of motion with his hands as if he were stabbing Gabrielle with a knife. For a moment, he imagined Jacqueline there instead of Ramon's woman. He could hardly wait any longer; he had to know if she found out where Jacqueline was. He knew that if things went wrong tonight, there would not be one death, but two. He refused to live without Jacqueline. If she were to  
perish because they could not save her, then she would not have to enter heaven alone. He vowed to -always- be beside her.

"D'Artagnan," Ramon said, gaining his friend's attention. "We meet her outside, comrade. Let's go." When Gabrielle managed to get away from Bernard and his rambling squad, she motioned for Ramon to leave the Cafe. He rose from the table and discreetly made his way to the front entrance.

D'Artagnan and Siroc followed making sure that no one noticed them. They left the Cafe separately, but regrouped by the shop across the street. Ramon looked around for his brunette beauty, and a smile broke across his lips when she emerged from the shadows between the Cafe and the neighboring shop. "My love! My Ramon!" she said in a loud whisper. She quickly ran to him, throwing her arms around him.

D'Artagnan and Siroc couldn't help but smile at each other. Ramon had found himself a beautiful and loyal woman. The combination was a rarity, but they knew that Ramon deserved that and more. "Mousiers d'Artagnan and Siroc," Gabrielle said and curtseyed. They both nodded and bowed their heads.

"Mademoiselle," d'Artagnan said eagerly. "Did you hear anything of Roget? Anything at all will help us dearly." He needed to know now.

Gabrielle nodded. "I did, mousier. She is to be executed tonight when the moon is full and high. He did not exactly tell me where, but he did mention cliffs. Mousier, the high moon is only a couple hours away," Gabrielle said with worry. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but Bernard almost sounded ecstatic that Jacqueline was going to be murdered in a horrible fashion. No one deserved that.

Ramon put his hands on Gabrielle's shoulders. "Gracias, mi amore," he said and gave her a quick kiss on her forehead. "You should head back for now. I will come for you later if all things go well."

"My prayers go with you, my musketeer," Gabrielle said and gave him one last hug before she ran back to the Cafe. She gave him one final look before turning her back and entering the hellish atmosphere once more.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Siroc asked his friends. His brow was creased as if he were coming up with a new idea. He had his trademark stature whenever he was pondering something. His fingers began massaging his temple, and he closed his eyes.

"They're going to get married in about a week?" d'Artagnan said.

"No, you idiot," Siroc said seriously. "The cliffs. Could they be the  
same as when we helped her brother escape?" He remembered catching up to Jacque Lepont only because d'Artagnan had forced him and Ramon to. He could now see Jacqueline in ever memory he held that had once contained Jacque Lepont. How could he have not seen it before?

"They couldn't be," Ramon said. "Why would they go back? They have been exposed once already."

"There must be something special about that place. About that area," Siroc said. "And those are the only cliffs close to where we are now. I'm willing to bet that we'll find Jacqueline there."

That was good enough for d'Artagnan. He wanted his Jacqueline back. "Siroc hasn't been wrong before. If that's where we need to be, then that's where we are going to go."

The full moon was nearly covered in clouds, and the air around them was cold and desolate. D'Artagnan, Ramon, and Siroc remained hidden in the tall grass that surrounded the clearing which led straight to the edge of the cliffs. This was the same spot where they had killed one of their lieutenants the night they saved Jacqueline's brother.

"They should be showing soon," Siroc said in a whisper. They arrived at the cliffs only a half an hour ago, and the full moon was only minutes away from reaching its point. Something had been bugging Siroc. The last time they had shown up, the Cardinal's men were preparing for what ever horrid experiment was to be performed. If something required that much preparation, they should have been here by now. What if...  
"Something must have gone wrong."

D'Artagnan hated it whenever those words came out of Siroc's mouth because he was usually right. But now, he abhorred hearing it because it concerned Jacqueline's life. "What do you mean?" he asked, feeling the rise of anxiety in his chest.

"They should have been here by now," Siroc said. Now he was beginning to doubt his intuition. Was he wrong? Did he make the wrong assumption? 'No, there's no where else they could be!' his mind thought frantically. They -must- be here!' Siroc buried his face in his hands. Had he sent Jacqueline to her death? "There's noway..."

"Siroc," Ramon hushed. "Listen to that." They waited in silence for a moment before a shrieking voice broke through the cool night air.

"Get her!" screamed a voice. "Get her back, so I can kill that little witch!" the longer the voice yelled the more it sounded like the owner was wounded.

D'Artagnan looked around the hedges of the tall grass when he heard rustling. His heart skipped a beat when Jacqueline bolted out into the clearing, hands bound, mouth gagged. She was barefoot, and the dress she wore was torn and covered in dry blood. She had been running for her life, but she looked confused and dazed. Her eyes scanned the vast clearing searching for any way out.

D'Artagnan would not repeat the same mistake twice. He had failed her once, but never again. He forced himself up and ran to her. She was looking behind her to see if anyone had pursued her, so she didn't see d'Artagnan in front of her.

Jacqueline felt the impact of another body collide with her own, and she panicked. She was caught again. The hope of seeing another day, of seeing her d'Artagnan, washed away, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. She gave a muffled cry as she tried to wrench away from her captive, but he held her tightly. "Jacqueline!" he cried. She stopped, and before she could register that voice, the cloth was pulled free from her mouth. She felt hands on her face, and they forced her to look into his  
eyes.

"D'Artagnan?" she said in disbelief. He was touching her; he was real. It wasn't a dream that he was standing next to her. It was him. He had come for her. "D'Artagnan!" she cried. The tears poured from her eyes, and her knees gave out. He caught her in his arms and forced her to stand.

"Jacqueline, you have to be strong. Come on!" he pulled her to where Siroc and Ramon had been waiting. They both had been waiting, urging them to take cover as the Cardinal's men began piling out into the clearing.

They all were dressed in black robes, and their faces were covered by masks. One of the men appeared to be limping, and he looked around wildly, trying to find the woman that had stabbed him in the leg.

"Find her!" he screamed. The others dispersed in different directions, covering as much ground as possible. Six men in black spread out into the field as would a disease of the body. They went slowly, making sure that they checked every inch in sight.

Jacqueline cringed away when they came near their hiding spot, but d'Artagnan tightened his hold on her, assuring her that she was safe. They just had to be quiet. She looked to Ramon and Siroc, and dozens of possibilities came to her mind. They came for me,' she thought. They all came for me.' She locked onto Siroc's gaze, and she wished that she could thank him, but it would have to wait.

Siroc took a knife from belt, and cut Jacqueline free. He felt his finger brush against hers, and he couldn't help himself. When he put the knife away, he gently took her hand in his and kissed the smooth skin.

"Protect her, d'Artagnan," he said, looking his friend in the eyes. When Jacqueline was going to say something, he placed a finger on his lips, motioning for her to be quiet. He looked to Ramon. There was only way to make sure that Jacqueline was safe. "Ramon... the church... tomorrow evening. I'll see you there," he said.

"What?" Ramon asked. But before he could ask what he really meant by it, Siroc took off running. "Siroc!" he whispered, but the blond inventor didn't look back.

D'Artagnan had no idea what Siroc was planning till he suddenly took off in a run. "Oh my god," he said.

"She's over there! She's running back to the forest!" yelled one of the men. All the men searching for Jacqueline turned their attention to the running figure, and they followed suit. Five black shadows began running through the clearing, intent on capturing their prey. The sixth one could not run as well, but he was intent on capturing the woman and making her pay for what she had done.

"Siroc," Jacqueline whimpered. Her tears did not stop; she couldn't help it. She thought she was going to die tonight with the belief that she was never going to see her friends again. Now Siroc was gone, risking his lifeto protect her own.

Ramon took charge the moment Siroc and his pursuers were no longer seen. "D'Artagnan, we have to hurry! Jacqueline!" he brought both of them to their feet, and they started in the opposite direction that Siroc had gone.

"But Siroc," d'Artagnan said, looking back. Though he no longer wore the uniform, the musketeer in him was not absent from his soul. They never abandoned one of their own.

Ramon didn't want to leave Siroc to fend for himself, but if they followed him, then his sacrifice would be in vain. He wanted Jacqueline to be safe. He knew that Siroc was more than capable of surviving a run in with the Cardinal's guard. "He can take care of himself. If he said he will meet us at the church, then he'll meet us at the Mother Bedelia's church! Now let's go!"


	13. What it Comes Down to

What it Comes Down to

Author's Note:

The church is not part of the YB series in any way. I made it up for a fanfic challenge long ago. We were supposed to write about where Siroc and Ramon were during Eps 4 (The Exile). Basically, I wrote that Ramon went to visit a church which pretty much is an orphanage, and the woman Bedelia cared for him when he was a child.

Mother Bedelia awoke to a light knock on her door. When it opened she had already gotten to her feet. The children rarely came to her unless it was an emergency. A little boy stood in the doorframe, unsure of whether or not he was allowed to come in. Bedelia rubbed her eyes lightly. The lack of natural light told her that it was still late in the night. 

"Luc?" she asked, gesturing with her hand for the boy to come forward. "What is it child?"

The small boy opened the door fully, and Bedelia could see the man she had considered her son standing next to Luc. "Why, Ramon!" A wide smile broke across her lips, and she stood quickly, almost gliding towards the door.

"Mother," Ramon said, giving her a huge hug. Though he was more than happy to see her, he knew that there was a different reason for his visit this night. "Mother," he said again but this time in a more stern tone. 

"We are in need of your shelter. This ..." he gestured behind him, and a young woman appeared. Her hair was matted down in tears and sweat, and a handsome young man with dark hair was holding her, comforting her.

"This is Jacqueline Roget and the musketeer, d'Artagnan." Ramon knew that if he announced that they were no longer musketeers, it would almost break Bedelia's heart. He glanced down at the little boy by the door. It would hurt even Luc if he found out. It was the boy's dream to be a musketeer.

"Why yes, of course," Bedelia said, taking in the new faces and names. "Roget? You mean the young woman charged for murder?" she asked, but she made no accusation to Jacqueline. Ramon was of sound judgment, and she trusted him. Her eyes scanned Jacqueline up and down, and finally she gave a huff. "Goodness child. You must get out of those clothes. They  
are torn and worn out. Come in, come in." Bedelia placed her hand on Jacqueline's arm and gently pulled her further into the room. "Ramon, Luc, and Monsieur d'Artagnan, if you could wait outside ..."

"Of course," d'Artagnan said hurriedly. He followed Ramon out the door, and closed it softly behind them. They both could hear Mother Bedelia giving orders for Jacqueline to "get out of her rags" and "put on a nice clean dress." D'Artagnan looked over to Ramon, and their expressions mirrored each other. They were both deeply concerned for Siroc's well being.

"He'll make it back," Ramon said. "Siroc will be all right." He sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. What a night they had been through. On second thought, the past few days had been quite unforgiving to them. Since he and Siroc found out about Jacqueline, things had become chaotic.

"That woman..." d'Artagnan started. He had to think of something else for a moment or else his head would explode. "She's not really your..."

"My mother?" Ramon finished. "Oh no, but she did take the place of the woman who was supposed to be. Mother Bedelia looks after this church, and protects these children." Ramon looked down to see Luc standing in front of him, waiting for his "big brother" to acknowledge his presence.

"This one's name is Luc," Ramon said and patted the boy on the head. The child gave him a wide grin, and he turned to look at d'Artagnan.

"Are you really d'Artagnan? The best musketeer in all of Paris next to brother Ramon?" his eyes were as big as saucers, and he fought to keep hit mouth from hanging wide open. Luc had spent many a time playing as d'Artagnan in his fantasy adventures with the other children. He felt his heart skip a beat when the dark-haired man in front of him nodded.

"I want to be just like you when I become a man. Ramon said that I must be as tall as you first..." Luc said, his eyes now downcast. He realized how far away his dream of becoming a musketeer was.

D'Artagnan forced a grin. His mind was still set on Jacqueline's well-being as well as Siroc's, but the child couldn't possibly understand that. He wouldn't bear down on the boy; after all, he had a reputation. He knelt down so that Luc could see him eye to eye. "Don't worry, Luc. I was your height once too, and now look where I am. Another important thing is a night of good rest. It helps with the growing part."

Luc eyes sparkled as though they were made from the stars. "Yes sir!" he said with joy. He held his hand up high and gave a mock rapier salute. D'Artagnan did the same, and Ramon ushered Luc back to his room.

"Come on you," Ramon said, picking the boy up into his arms. "It's late and you need to get some sleep." The Spaniard's form disappeared around the corner, and d'Artagnan assumed that the rest of the children slept elsewhere apart from Mother Bedelia. He jumped slightly when a hand was placed gently on his back.

"My child," Mother Bedelia said softly. D'Artagnan turned to face her and studied her for a moment. She had small but hopeful eyes, a strict yet gentle face. It was so comforting, knowing that he would be face to face with a loving caring woman, rather than a cloaked mysterious man that was intent on killing him. "Your love is sleeping in my room. Poor thing is exhausted, but somehow through that mess I found a beautiful woman. I think you should join her; she keeps calling your name in her sleep." She didn't have to know of their history to realize that d'Artagnan cared for the Roget girl. There was nothing but love between the two.

D'Artagnan nodded. He didn't know what else to do. He would protect her; that much he knew. "Mother..." he said, stopping short of the doorway to Bedelia's room. "Do you think we'll have our fairytale ending? Does God even grant something like that to those who work so hard for it?"

He never asked God for anything; he didn't need anything from Him. But now, all he wanted was one thing. He didn't want wealth, and he would gladly give up his fame and reputation for Jacqueline. Anything for Jacqueline.

"God works in the most mysterious ways," Bedelia answered. "And sometimes what seems to be failure is really success, in others a lie is truth. The answer is never clear, child," she said. She touched his cheek, giving him a small smile.

"But what of now?" d'Artagnan asked. Somewhere deep inside of him, there was a seed of doubt. He tried to keep it out, but it kept edging into his mind. What if Jacqueline could never be his? What if she was found out, and her life was taken? He couldn't bear to think it, but it was always a possibility.

"Do what you think is best," Bedelia said walking in the same direction as Ramon. "And God will do the rest." She, too, disappeared into the shadows of the church, leaving d'Artagnan alone.

D'Artagnan entered Mother Bedelia's room and found his angel asleep with covers pulled all around her. It looked as though she was trying to find as much protection as she could. He sat down beside her, brushing her hair out of her face.

She knew he was there. "D'Artagnan," she sighed in her sleep. She tried to cuddle closer to him, and there was a slight smile that graced her lips. It looked as though the tension that kept her body tight was released. One would have never guessed that she had gone through so many horrors in the past nights.

Leaning down, he gave her a light kiss. "Good night, Jacqueline, mon amour." He laid down next her and wrapped his arms around her, shielding her from any nightmares that might try to haunt her dreams.

The next morning, a large crash awoke d'Artagnan. He could hear Ramon's shouts echo throughout the church, and the children were screaming.

Instinctively, d'Artagnan grabbed for his rapier. He looked down at Jacqueline; she too, was awake.

"They found me," she whimpered. She pulled the covers close to her, fear evident in her eyes. The musketeer, Jacques Leponte, was no longer present. Only Jacqueline Roget sat there. The days she had spent in the cell all alone had killed Jacques; that was the Cardinal's plan.

"Don't worry," d'Artagnan told her. "Stay hidden. Out of sight." He gave her a desperate kiss on her forehead and ran out of the room. They had come to far to be caught now.

The cries led him into the main area of the church. Pews were cast aside, windows had been shattered, and several children were trying to find cover in the corners of the church. Mother Bedelia was using herself to shield the children from any harm, and they were grabbing onto her, sobbing into her gown.

Ramon had been fending off several men dressed in red. Two of the Cardinal's men were unconscious on the floor. Ramon had taken the opportunity and borrowed their rapiers. He tossed one to d'Artagnan when he saw him in the corner of his eye. "Compadre!" he yelled.

Immediately, d'Artagnan joined in the fight, throwing one man off of him as he made his way to Ramon. "Nothing like a good old fashion brawl to get the blood pumping," d'Artagnan said, blocking a blow by one of the Cardinal's men. Ramon punched another man with the hilt of his sword and kicked his feet from under him.

"It doesn't look good, d'Artagnan," Ramon said, his breath ragged.

"They just came charging in demanding Jacqueline." He grabbed a man by his arm and threw him over his shoulder.

D'Artagnan's mind was unstable. How could he and Ramon protect all the children, Mother Bedelia, and Jacqueline at the same time? It seemed futile. Is this how it was to end? Luc's shattering cry was heard over the battle.

"Brother Siroc!!"

D'Artagnan and Ramon turned to the main entrance of the church. There was Siroc, bound in rope, and obviously beaten brutally. Bruises tainted his handsome face, and blood trickled down the corner of his mouth.

Captain Bernard kept a knife to the inventor's throat, preventing him to escape. "Gentlemen," he said in a mock tone of politeness. He held his free hand out, silently asking d'Artagnan and Ramon to drop their weapons.

They did so. They couldn't risk Siroc's life. "Siroc ... you all   
right?" d'Artagnan asked.

The sandy haired man gave him a wry smile. "I am. I'm sorry. They caught up to me, but I don't know how they found out about the church." Dried blood cracked on his lips when he started talking, but he didn't care about himself. Only Jacqueline. Was she still in the church? Did she flee?

Bernard played with the tip of the knife on Siroc's neck. "The Cardinal has many eyes. To hide from him is futile. He will eventually find anyone that is stupid enough to stay where they are wanted. Where is she? Roget? If you don't tell me..." he pressed the blade closer to Siroc's neck.

"No!" Luc cried. "Don't hurt my brother!" Mother Bedelia held him back, whispering to him to remain strong. She was uttering a small prayer for her loved ones.

D'Artagnan and Ramon wanted more than anything to save Siroc, but they were helpless. Both Siroc and Jacqueline were dear to them, but how can they possibly give up one to save the other? "She's not here," d'Artagnan said slowly. "She left last night."

Bernard smiled wickedly and nodded to one of his men. The man pointed his rapier at Luc, making sure that the metal was touching his skin. Luc shook with fear, but he held his tears back. Ramon had taught him that musketeers didn't cry.

"Now, gentlemen, the Cardinal has ways of persuading people to get what he wants. For the last time, where is Jacqueline Roget?" Bernard demanded.

"I'm here."

All turned to see Jacqueline in the back of the church, arms at her side, standing tall. "Leave them be. You wanted me, so now you have me."

"Jacqueline!" d'Artagnan started to run for her, but Ramon held him back.

"No, d'Artagnan!" the Spaniard whispered. "There are too many at stake, mi amigo."

Jacqueline walked past her fellow musketeers and faced Bernard. Her eyes glanced over to Siroc, and she could feel her heart breaking. He had gone through so much for her, but she realized that she had been hiding behind them for far too long. She wasn't going to use them anymore.

"Leave them be, Bernard," she said. She held her hands in front of her, allowing herself to be bound.

Bernard smiled widely, giving her a mock bow. "Thank you for joining us, Mademoiselle Roget. Unfortunately, since this has been a public display, I will have to have you and the musketeers brought before the king himself. You know how the Cardinal hates having a bad image."

"Of course," she spat through gritted teeth.

"The musketeers may be disbanded for their behavior and rash decisions, but you on the other hand?" Hegave a cruel laugh when he bound her hands tightly. "You will certainly be sent to the gallows."

Mazarin entered the throne room where Louis sat patiently awaiting the "great news" that the Cardinal had promised him. "Mazarin," he whined.

"What's taking so long? And what is this surprise that you have for me?" Louis was playing with the curls of his hair and occasionally flirting with the maid that tended to him.  
Even Duval was present in the throne room. He was given a "special invitation to join in the special meeting that he would not want to miss." 

Anything like that sent from the Cardinal could not have been a good thing at all, but he had to come.

"Your Majesty," Mazarin said. He kept his hands together in front of him as a holy man would... or rather, as a devil dressed up as a holy man would. "I have captured the wanted criminal, Jacqueline Roget."

Louis' ears perked up, and Duval gave the Cardinal a skeptical look. "Roget?" Louis repeated. "The woman who murdered one of your men in cold blood?" he leaned forward now, fully interested.

"Yes, Highness," Mazarin turned to the main door. "Bring her in."

Jacqueline was led into the room guarded by two of the Cardinal's guard. She was followed by d'Artagnan, Ramon, and Siroc, who were all bound and defenseless. When Duval saw the bloodied state Siroc was in, he became enraged. "Cardinal, what is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"This?" Mazarin said with a hint of glee. He glided over to Jacqueline and placed his hand under her chin. She fought against the urge to spit in his face. "This is the musketeer that you so dearly loved, captain Duval. To you, this is Jacques Lepont."

"What!" Louis exclaimed. He shot up to his feet and practically ran to Mazarin. "Surely, you are mistaken,

"He is not, Your Majesty," Jacqueline said in the low tone that she hid behind for almost a year. Her eyes were soft when she saw Louis almost back away from her in disbelief.

"No, not this cannot be," Louis said. He looked Jacqueline up and down, but the more he studied her, the more he could see the similarities that tied her to Lepont.

Duval kept silent. He could not tell the king that he knew that she was Jacques. It hurt him to lose three of his best musketeers, but to utter his involvement would mean that he would lose all of them. Female or not, she was part of his elite team. In any other time, he would have disapproved of the idea, but somehow she worked her way into his heart. She became a daughter to him over time.

Mazarin took this opening to make another accusation. "And your beloved musketeers are the ones who kept her hidden. They harbored a wanted criminal, Majesty. They knew of her identity, yet they kept her. Because of their actions, they too should be punished."

"But Jacques..." Louis started. "Jacqueline had saved my life. She risked her own to save mine all those months ago. Surely, that must account for something." He approached her once again, the fear gone from his eyes.

"I am glad to be of service to my king," she said to him with a smile. She was happy that he remembered such a thing, and that he was touched by it. He would be a fine ruler indeed.

"She killed a man that was a loyal follower to me," Mazarin snapped.

Jacqueline glared at the supposed holy man dressed in red. "Because he killed my father for no reason at your order!" Her eyes burned with passion as she recalled that day when she first met the Cardinal. The courage of Jacques Lepont was reviving slowly. "All because of water for his horses. You had no right to murder a good man!"

"Mazarin, is this true?" Louis asked. He turned back to his advisor. This man had looked after him for so many years, watched over him, offered his words of advice. Yet, he couldn't put it past the holy man if Jacqueline's accusation was true.

"How dare you," Mazarin said to Jacqueline, the words seething through his teeth. "She has no proof, and no one to speak for her. We know that the musketeers are discredited. Who will speak for her in her defense? She has no one." He smiled at her, sure of his victory. Too many a night he had fantasized of her hanging, but now he was ecstatic for that dream to be a reality.

The door suddenly burst open, and a small thin man came running to a halt. All eyes were now focused on him. "There is someone who will speak for her," he said containing his composure.

D'Artagnan's eyes lit up when he recognized the tiny man. They received the letter!' his thoughts were jumping around in his mind. Hope had been renewed for him. "Never thought I'd be happy to see you again," he said with a smile.

Everyone looked at d'Artagnan as though he were crazy, but not Jacqueline. Her eyes went from d'Artagnan then to the man. She, too, knew him and instinctively her hands came up to her mouth in surprise. "Oh my God..."

"Who are you?" Mazarin asked in pure annoyance. Louis too, wanted the answer to that question.

"Haven't we met?" the young king asked, sure that he had seen him somewhere before.

"I am a humble servant," the man bowed low. He sidestepped away from the center of the doorway to reveal a striking young man. "I am here to announce the return of King Charles II, the king of England."


	14. The Truth

Jacqueline almost fell to her knees when she saw that familiar face. She could not take her eyes off of him from the moment that "Clyde" had stepped out of the way to reveal his king. "Stuart… Charles…" she gasped. "What are you doing here?" She felt her cheeks blush when his eyes fell on her. Suddenly, she felt a little embarrassed to be looked upon by the young king. The last time he had seen her, she was confident and strong. However, now she was weak and bound by the clutches of the Cardinal.

Louis was the first to address Charles. "Why yes! Your Majesty!" he exclaimed like an excited little boy. "I had not received word of your visit to Paris."

Charles held up his hands in an apologetic manner. "Forgive me. I did not have the time to send a formal announcement. I had to make haste," he said with a gentle but commanding voice. He turned to Jacqueline and gave her a small smile as if he were trying to comfort her.

Jacqueline continued to stare at the king. He had changed since the last time they saw each other. He had grown, not in physical stature, but in image. He held himself differently, with perfect poise and posture just like a king should. Her mouth could not form the words that she wanted to say. She swallowed hard before she found her voice. "Your Majesty," she whispered before attempting to curtsy. She was a commoner now, a simple woman whose life was now not her own.

Charles was immediately by her side. He placed his hands under hers to stop her from lowering herself to him. "Don't. For it is I that holds you in the highest respect." He couldn't help himself and placed a hand on her right cheek, caressing her soft skin. He pulled back, remembering that he lost the right to show her affection in any way. He turned to Louis. "I am here on Jacqueline Roget's behalf, Highness."

Mazarin's face matched the color of his robes, but he held in his rage. He plastered a fake smile on his face and slithered toward Charles. "My dear king, this woman is a murderer, for I have seen her commit the act with my very own eyes. The men who were with me that day will support me, for they two were witnessed the heinous crime." He glanced over to Jacqueline; he could see her anger through her dark brown eyes.

D'Artagnan stepped up. "I support Jacqueline." Ramon and Siroc followed suit.

"As do we," they both said in unison.

Mazarin laughed at the futile attempt of saving the worthless woman. "Have you forgotten that you are also under arrest? You're opinion no longer is valid in this matter. Musketeers, you shall be sentenced for aiding, and worse yet, harboring a fugitive. And you," he glared at Duval, "you must have known all this time, captain."

Duval let out a long breath. His gaze traveled from his beloved musketeers to Jacqueline, then finally landed on the Cardinal. He stood proudly, no longer leaning against his cane. "I knew," he said simply.

"Captain!" d'Artagnan yelled. He looked to Louis with panicked eyes. "He didn't know. Only I did. Since the first day that Jacque Laponte was enlisted as a musketeer, I knew. The captain didn't know until yes…"

"Hold your tongue, Private d'Artagnan," Duval said harshly. "As captain, I accept all responsibility of the actions taken by my musketeers." He held Mazarin's gaze, almost daring him to continue the diatribe.

D'Artagnan, Siroc, and Ramon looked at each other in worry. They wanted to avoid involving Duval and musketeers. They did not want Duval to have pay for what they had done. Siroc spoke up facing Louis, "Your Majesty, d'Artagnan, Ramon, and I have resigned our roles as musketeers. Our actions cannot be tied to the captain. You can only charge us as common civilians, not muske…"

"Silence!" Mazarin roared. He was losing his composure now. He was at Louis' side in a flash. He seemed like a parasite that could not let go of his host for too long. "Your Majesty, have I not been a loyal servant of yours for all these years? I have never asked for anything for my own well-being. Your Majesty, I have suffered because of this woman's act of anger. She's nothing but a heartless killer. "

Jacqueline just shook her head then looked to her feet. This was the moment she dreaded the most, the one point in her life she never wanted to come across. It was worse because she had involved those she loved dearly. She felt a gentle hand on her arm, and she looked up to see Charles still smiling at her, telling her that he was with her. "I disagree, Cardinal." He stepped aside to let everyone in the room have a good look at Jacqueline. "She is the most admirable, noble, and self-less person I have ever met in my life. When I was captured, it was she who had saved my life. She risked her own for a complete stranger because she believed I was ill-treated and falsely accused." He locked eyes with her and continued, "I offered her a throne, a new life, but she refused. Yes, it was partly because of my betrayal of her trust, but highness…" He now turned his eyes on Louis. "More than her desire to be relieved of these accusations the Cardinal has set upon her, she stayed for you."

Louis let out a breath. "For me?" His eyes darted to Jacqueline in a new light. He was seeing her, as Jacqueline, for the first time. Jacque was still present, but what he saw was a proud, scared, yet faithful woman.

"For you, for your safety, for her loyalty to her only king," Charles said. He now stood in front of Jacqueline, holding onto her right hand. He kissed her hand. "I would gladly give my life for you. And I believe that I can say the same for your friends," he said motioning towards the trio.

D'Artagnan could hardly contain his feelings for Jacqueline. Right there, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, that he just wanted to carry her away from all of this and live where they could be happy without any influence of the Cardinal. Maybe that place he had often dreamed of with her was heaven. "Jacqueline," he said. "If it is fate that you must be taken away from me, know that I will follow you. No man, no law, nothing will keep me from you." He walked up to her realizing that she was holding back tears. He gently placed his forehead against hers.

Siroc limped toward the couple and stood next to d'Artagnan, and Ramon followed. Siroc wiped his bleeding lip with the back of his hand. "Jacqueline is dear to me as well. She is more than a comrade to me. She gave me a soul. If she says she did not murder the captain, then I believe her even if it costs me my life."

Ramon completed the circle that the three of them formed around Jacqueline. "These three are my family. And whatever fate will befall them, then shall it befall upon me." He stood his ground along with d'Artagnan and Siroc even when Mazarin gave them threatening glares.

Mazarin scowled even more, and almost threw up his hands in frustration. "You cannot possibly believe all of this, majesty," he said to Louis, but the young king was silent.

Louis observed everything quietly. Slowly he made his way to Jacqueline. The room was still, and the only sounds that could be heard were Louis' soft footfalls. He stopped in front of d'Artagnan, ignoring the man's pleading eyes. Louis gently attempted to pushed d'Artagnan out of the way. When d'Artagnan did not move, he stared directly into the former musketeer's eyes. Louis was filled with the presence of a ruler, a king. When d'Artagnan became aware that he could not defy his sovereign, he bowed his head and stepped out of the Louis' way. Siroc and Ramon noticed the defeated look in d'Artagnan's eyes and they too back away slowly from Louis. The young king now stood face to face with Jacqueline.

"Majesty," she said in a low voice and knelt down on one knee. "Majesty I…"

"Mademoiselle Roget," he said in a serious tone. It felt awkward saying her real name for the first time. He looked down to her with a soft gaze. "You have shown me such courage, compassion, and loyalty. Your friends, even the King of England himself have been touched by you. Never have I forgotten what you have done for me in the past, for it is because of you that I am still alive today. I do not believe that you have done what is accused of you." To everyone's surprise, he knelt down in front of her. "I am grateful." He placed his hands under chin and lifted her face, so that they were looking at each other directly. "I am grateful for you Jacqueline Roget." He gave her a bright smile. "A life for a life…"

D'Artagnan felt his legs starting to give away. "Does that mean?"

Louis nodded his head, and his smile grew wider when he saw recognition dawn in Jacqueline's eyes. "You saved my life, so I shall save yours. I shall drop the charges against you. You will be pardoned."

She didn't care about maintaining herself anymore. Jacqueline threw her arms around Louis, capturing him in a tight hug. She cried into his shoulder, but they were sobs of joy. "Thank you, Majesty. Thank you. Thank you."

Siroc, Ramon, Duval, and Charles II let out a triumphant shout, but it was quickly silenced by Mazarin's cry of dismay. "NO! Majesty, you cannot allow that! **I** will not allow it!" So close. He had her within in his clutches, and this spineless child ruined everything for him.

Louis was taken back by the Cardinal. "Mazarin, my will is law. Do not forget that. I shall write a decree for all of Paris to know that I have pardoned Jacqueline."

D'Artagnan helped Jacqueline to her feet then shielded her from Mazarin. "Your evil cannot touch her now. Your tyranny ends now."

"That peasant deserved his fate!" Mazarin shouted. "If I could, I would have him killed again!" Pure anger blinded Mazarin, and he did not realize that he had confessed the truth about Claude Roget. The two guards that came in with Jacqueline cowered, eyes widened in fear.

Louis stood to his feet as well. He and the others closed in on Mazarin. Louis sucked in a breath, straightened his clothes, dusted his pants, and let out the breath. Cheerily, he looked to Duval. "Captain," he called.

"Yes, highness," Duval smiled. After all these years, he now had Mazarin where he wanted him.

"Will you do the honor?"

"Of course, highness," Duval said with satisfaction. He limped toward Mazarin, grabbing him roughly by his arm. "Cardinal Mazarin, you are under arrest."


	15. And They Lived Happily

For the first time, Jacqueline Roget entered the garrison as a free woman. Her hair was not bound, and her musketeer uniform was replaced by a flowing green gown of silk and velvet. She left thoughts of Mazarin behind when Duval had taken him away, and from that moment she promised herself she would make newer, happier memories surrounded by those she loved. D'Artagnan, Siroc, and Ramon led the way, leading her back into the vast open courtyard. Though it was far from empty. Waves of blue and silver greeted her eyes.

There, waiting for her, was every musketeer in Paris, standing in a line formation. Her gasp of surprise was drowned out when an explosion of applause filled the garrison. All of the musketeers cheered, shouting and yelling in triumph. She smiled, immediately feeling tears of happiness touch her eyes. She hugged as many of her comrades as possible, whispering her appreciation and thanks.

D'Artagnan and the other joined in the celebration. They were free of Mazarin's treachery and corruption. Jacqueline was not the only one liberated from the Cardinal. Before they had left, Louis had announced a banquet was to be held in honor of Jacqueline at the palace later that evening.

When the cheering had subsided, Jacqueline stepped onto a table, one she had used many times while sparring with d'Artagnan with and without a sword. Full of pride, she faced her comrades. "My fellow musketeers, my friends… my family," she started. "I will always cherish each and everyone of you. You have taught me more than skills with a sword. You have taught me the meaning of fellowship, of honor, of love." She glanced to d'Artagnan and when their eyes met, he nodded. He unsheathed his rapier and handed it to her. She took it with the same amount of pride and pleasure she had since she was first accepted by Duval. She raised it high above her. "To the musketeers!" she shouted.

Hundreds of rapiers shot up into the air and the salute to the musketeers echoed throughout all of Paris.

Siroc enjoyed the light breeze that brought a cool touch to the warm summer night. He took a sip from his glass and listened to the muffled music created by Louis' quartet. The balcony was isolated from the festivities, but at the same time it was a part of them. "Just like me," he said to himself. So much had happened in the past week that he could hardly believe it happened. If he were to tell the story to another, he was certain that he would be telling it to skeptical ears.

"What's like you?" asked a soft voice. It was Jacqueline. She emerged from the curtained entrance more beautiful than ever. Siroc could not take his eyes off of her. Her hair was brought up in an elegant twist and decorated with sparkling gems and small white flowers. A few curls cascaded down the side of her face, lightly brushing her rosy cheeks. He couldn't see the exact color of her dress, but it was a light shade, perhaps champagne. It was beaded along the sides and ended in a short train. Siroc had to agree with Charles II; she could be a queen.

Siroc let out a nervous laugh. "Just talking to myself. I'm not one for huge parties."

"Neither am I," Jacqueline laughed. "Regardless if it's for me or not," she said, taking out one of the jewels from her hair. He noticed the gemstone right away. A yellow peridot, simple yet stunning. "This isn't like me at all." She began to pull at the others.

"Don't," Siroc said, stopping her. He ignored the bewildered look she gave him. "Don't," he repeated. He wanted to remember her this way. It was the last time that he could look at her as a woman he loved. He wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful, but he was unable to say anything. When the words couldn't come, he looked out pretending to enjoy the view of Paris.

"I never got to thank you," she said, walking forward to stand next to him. "What you did for me was more than brave, Siroc…"

Siroc let out a breath remembering how he feared for her safety. He would have gladly given his life to save her. "You would have done the same for me, Jacqueline. You are braver than any of us." He took another sip from his glass. He loved her, and he also loved d'Artagnan. The friendship he had with both was a treasure he would not jeopardize. "Jacqueline…" he started. He felt a knot building in his throat, and his nerves began attacking his stomach. When she looked at him with those loving eyes, he couldn't help himself and lifted his hand to caress her face. "I should be the one thanking you."

"For what?" she asked, taking his hand into hers.

"You taught me, showed me that I could feel more than just the satisfaction of completing a project. That there was more to life than equations and the bidding of a king. You taught me that I was capable of love."

She looked into his eyes, searching. "Siroc," she said. Her eyes widened when realization dawned on her.

Siroc smiled and laughed. He had not expected that reaction himself, but it felt liberating. A burden seemed to leave with that one laugh. "I want you and d'Artagnan to be happy." He wrapped his arms around her, grateful to God that she appeared in his life. He never thought he would enjoy the touch of another. But now he learned to cherish it, though he now knew it wouldn't be hers.

He was happy to realize that he could learn to accept the feeling of love. There was hope for him yet. "I love you. That will never change. Perhaps, given time, the degree will lessen, but I will always love you. Thank you, Jacqueline," he said pulling away. He kissed her on the cheek, then let her go. He grabbed his glass and pocketed a jewel he had picked from her hair. He gave her one last smile before he walked back toward the balcony opening, leaving Jacqueline behind.

Siroc had taken a few steps into the banquet hall when a strong voice stopped him.

"Thank you, Siroc."

Siroc smiled, feeling content. "Take care of her, or you will have to deal with me," he said then continued on to enjoy the rest of the night. A few steps more and Ramon was using him as a human balance pole.

"Siroc!" Ramon cooed. "Lemme tell you what Charles told me about the women in England!" And the drunk Spaniard led him away.

D'Artagnan nodded, even though he knew Siroc did not see him. He turned away and went to join Jacqueline on the balcony. Compared to the view of the city, Jacqueline stood superior to its beauty, radiant and glowing. The moonlight danced along her skin and the gems that decorated her hair and dress shone more brightly than the stars.

He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her ear when she brought her hands to meet his. "We finally found it," she said to him.

"Found what?" he asked, and she could feel the smile on his lips.

"Our fairytale ending," she said.

D'Artagnan brought his right hand down to caress her arm, and for a moment it left her skin. "I suppose that there is only more thing to make this moment eternal," he said, leaving her body completely.

Jacqueline shivered when the warmth had left her. She was sure that he would return to her, but after a few moments she turned her head. D'Artagnan had gone. When she fully turned around, she realized that he had not left. He was merely kneeling. She wasn't sure how many more times she was capable of crying, but the tears ran free once more as she focused on the tiny gold band that he held up to her.

"For my princess," he said, reaching for her hand. He slipped it on her finger, and she met him halfway, bringing their lips to meet for the first of many times that night.

And there you have it guys!!! I'll let you in on a little secret... there will be an epilogue Hope you all have enjoyed. And I apologize to those I have kept waiting. Thank you for all your reviews and support. It is greatly appreciated.

Kristanci


	16. Siroc's Resolution

Siroc was worried. A strong breeze blew dust and sand into his eyes, but he managed to keep his attention on the newly built flying machine. It was a smaller version of the one he and the others had tested when they first met Jacqueline, but it was modified to ride the wind current. This was his day to prove to Louie that man could indeed fly; he just needed a model to impress his highness so that he could receive the necessary funds for his new project. Small twigs and leaves began flying into his face, causing him more concern. His calculations were correct. He predicted that it would be a windy day, but he never anticipated the fact the winds would be so strong.

He looked out into the field, judging how far the machine would fly before it would descend. He nervously looked around at the small crowd that had gathered to watch him. D'Artagnan and Jacqueline were waving to him, giving him encouraging smiles and nods. When Jacqueline was done waving, she placed her hand on her growing belly and smiled to d'Artagnan. The soon-to-be-father placed his hand over hers and whispered something in her ear making her laugh.

Siroc took his mind off of his flying invention for a moment. So much had happened in a short amount of time that he couldn't help but wonder how his life would be if things happened differently. His eyes met Jacqueline's, and he knew that as a lover she was lost to him, but never as a friend. He returned her smile, letting go of more feelings.

"Amigo!" yelled Ramon, catching his attention. "It is a sin, to worry about the wind, so just bear it, with a grin!" Ramon raised his fist in the air triumphantly, and Siroc could only think that it was meant to be an encouraging gesture.

Siroc looked further down the line. Louie was comfortably seated in between two ushers, but his wig could barely sit still. "I apologize for the horrible weather, your highness!" Siroc shouted to Louie when he heard the young king yelp, keeping his hands on his head.

Louie cupped one hand around his mouth. "Please, Siroc, if you could get this demonstration over with, I would greatly appreciate it!" he shouted back.

Siroc nodded and looked down at the small flying machine. It was connected to what he liked to call a "sling shooter" that was intended to shoot the machine high into the air where it was to ride the wind current. He began to panic when the wind picked up once more, blowing over some of the small encampments in the field and startling the horses.

He said a small prayer to God, and pulled back on the lever. In a second, the machine was launched in to the air. He heard the crowd cry out in surprise when it stayed high above their heads. It caught the perfect current and was soaring gracefully. He felt a swell of pride and joy in him and shouted out a cry of victory. Louie stood to watch the machine take flight, and then he jumped up and down clapping his hands in delight. D'Artagnan and Ramon ran to him and patted him on the back, congratulating him.

"I told you it would happen!" Ramon laughed.

"See?" d'Artagnan followed. "And here you were worried."

Siroc smiled and looked up, but then a great gust of wind came in from a different direction. The flying machine was veering off course, and it began flying over the trees to the east. "Oh no no no no," Siroc muttered in worry, watching his machine about to disappear over the maze of trees. He couldn't lose it now. That model was the only one he had, and it had taken him months to perfect it.

He ran to one of the horses and mounted it, quickly grabbing the reins. D'Artagnan and Ramon were right behind him, and it was very reminiscent of the times they had to ride off to defeat Mazarin or save the citizens of France. He took off with alarming speed, his eyes never leaving his target. He heard Jacqueline call after them, but he pushed her voice from his mind. From the corners of his eyes, he could see two more mares riding beside him. Though he was panicked, d'Artagnan and Ramon were laughing and cheering like small boys. He looked at them as though they were crazy, but the longer he saw their smiling faces, the more he himself felt like smiling.

Again, he was placed in an extraordinary situation, and there was nothing left to do but laugh. The moment the corners of mouth turned up, he felt the burden lift from his chest. He began laughing with the other two, finally understanding how silly he had been acting over the last few weeks. He had taken this project very seriously, so he had forgotten what it was like to be surrounded by friends. Here were three grown men chasing after pieces of wood and metal that were flying overhead in the middle of the woods.

"I see it!" d'Artagnan shouted. He pointed to the right, and Siroc could see his beloved invention flying toward a bridge that crossed over a wide wild river. There was a woman casually riding across the bridge, oblivious to the machine flying straight to her.

"Watch out!" Siroc yelled. "Duck!"

He watched in horror as the flying machine barely missed the brown mare slamming into the side of the bridge. The mare neighed in fear and threw its rider into the river. Siroc rode up to the bank of the river, jumped from his saddle, and plunged into the river. When the bubbles cleared from his vision, he could see the young woman struggling to swim to the surface. It looked as though her dress was weighing her down. He swam to her, and wrapped his arm around her tiny waist and used all of his strength to lift her. The current was strong, but he managed to get her to break surface. Both of them gasped for air, but he kept a firm grasp on her. He saw d'Artagnan and Ramon holding onto to each other, forming a human chain. Ramon held his hand out.

"Siroc!" he yelled.

Siroc stretched as far as he could to reach for Ramon. If he missed his chance, both he and the woman could be taken further downstream, or possibly dragged under. He felt his muscles tighten, burning painfully. Now that his hand was outstretched, he realized how cold the water felt. He immediately thought of the young woman that clung to him for life. 'She must be freezing. I have to get her out of here!' he thought. With a final burst of energy, he reached out and felt Ramon grab onto his arm.

D'Artagnan and Ramon pulled both of them easily on the bank. Siroc kept his grasp on the woman, still thinking that if he were to let go, she'd slip away and be drowned. It took him a few moments to realize he was lying on his back, and the woman was lying on top of his chest. Gently, he let go of her waist, and she pushed herself up, coughing up water.

He wiped the water from his face, combing his hair back in an attempt to keep his vision clear. He lightly patted her back, fearing she may have swallowed too much water. "Mademoiselle, are you hurt?" he asked. She kept her head down, trying to catch her breath. When she lifted her face to meet his, he felt his own breath slip away. She had honey colored eyes, and a heart shaped face. Though she was completely drenched, he could tell she had a brilliant shade of sun-kissed hair.

"I… am fine, mousier," she said with a nervous smile, shivering slightly. She looked to d'Artagnan and Ramon. "I am much obliged. Thank you, gentlemen."

"Of course," d'Artagnan said with a small bow. He nudged Ramon, and they both glanced at each other then slowly backed away.

"I will see if I can regain your steed, my lady, "Ramon said, before turning to walk to the bridge.

Siroc swiftly stood to his feet wiping the wet dirt from his hand onto his pants before offering her help. "I beg your forgiveness, mademoiselle. It's my fault that you almost drowned." He kept his head bowed low, but to his surprise she laughed.

"Well, I suppose I could forgive you. It is every woman's dream to be rescued by a musketeer," she said, smiling sweetly. Her smiled faded when she looked down at her yellow spring dress. She was covered in mud and grass, and small pebbles stuck to her arms. "I must look awful…" she said, trying to wring out the water from her dress.

He didn't think to stop himself. "Actually, I think you look… quite nice," Siroc said. "Beautiful even." He closed his mouth, unable to believe that the words had come out so easily. She looked at him in surprise, and he suddenly felt foolish. "I'm sorry… I am not normally so forward…"

"No, no," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's quite… flattering. What is your name, musketeer?"

"Siroc," he answered with another bow.

She stepped back and gracefully curtsied. "Adela," she said. "I'm staying with my cousin, looking for work in the city." She turned when she heard d'Artagnan and Ramon returning with her horse and his flying machine. "How odd," she said, studying the broken pieces of wood. "How is it that it was flying as though it were a bird?"

Siroc flushed with embarrassment. "It is actually a complicated procedure. I'm sure it would be boring to you…," he said, stuttering a bit. He saw Adela consider the machine once more before deciding to mount her horse. He helped her with the reins once she was stable.

"I will be helping my cousin at a restaurant called Café Nouveau," Adela said. "Do you know of it?"

Siroc was lost in her eyes, and didn't answer her right away. Her hand brushed his when he handed her the reins, and he felt his heart flutter. He felt d'Artagnan smack in him on the shoulder. "Yes, he knows of it," d'Artagnan answered, stepping in. "We frequent the place quite often."

Adela smiled again. "Perhaps, you won't mind visiting me to tell me about your invention?" she asked.

All he could think about was how radiant her smile was. He felt another smack on his other shoulder when he didn't answer. "Of course," Ramon said. "He'd be happy to."

Adela laughed and placed her hand on the back his neck. Gently she pulled him forward, and bent to kiss his forehead. Her kiss was warm against his cool skin, and it was very tender and kind. "My thanks, musketeer. I'll be looking forward to your visits." She nodded her thanks to d'Artagnan and Ramon, then rode off.

He watched her ride, completely captivated by her. D'Artagnan and Ramon began teasing him, lightly shoving him back and forth. "Perhaps, you should invent a second mouth," Ramon said and began walking back to their horses.

"Ramon, go easy on him," d'Artagnan said. "The man clearly doesn't know when a woman is interested in him. You have to ease him into the process." D'Artagnan wrapped his around Siroc's shoulders, bringing their heads close together. "You _do_ know she was interested, right?"

Siroc was still a bit dazed, but he heard every word from their mouths. He still watched her riding away till she was a small spot on the horizon. Science couldn't explain what he felt for Jacqueline and it certainly wouldn't explain how his nerves were jumping around in his body. He heard Ramon riding up with their horses, but he still kept his gaze ahead.

"Siroc," Ramon said, teasingly. "Are you ready to go?"

He felt liberated. For the first time in months, he felt like he could smile without burden. He didn't even care about his partially destroyed machine. He lost something, but what he received had by far a greater value. "Yeah," he said. "And you know what? I think later in the evening, I'm going to go for some coffee."


End file.
